Holding On and Letting Go
by xRainyDaysxx
Summary: "You need to grow up." That's what my dad had always told me. I never listened to him, though. But now, he's gone and I'm all alone. Alone, in a world filled with the undead. In a world that has no room for a twelve-year-old girl like me.
1. Prologue

**First story.**

**Here we go.**

**Please, enjoy :)**

***I do not own The Walking Dead. It belongs to its rightful owner.***

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_Prologue:_

"You need to grow up."

That's what my dad had always told me. I never really took the words to heart, though, just brushed them off. That's what I tried to do with most of the things he said to me but they still stuck with me. You see, my dad he was a drug addict; alcoholic; as well. He was always down at the local bar or off in the streets somewhere, taking whatever drug he could get his hands on. My mom, well, she left about two years ago. Her and Dad would fight a lot and one day, she just got up and left. I never heard from her again. In result, my dad turned to beer and drugs. He stopped being the father I once knew. He started getting angry, violent at times. Sometimes, he would get so mad about the littlest things that he would just lash out on me. I have the scars on my arms to prove it.

I didn't tell anybody, not a soul. I was afraid that someone would come and take him away. I was scared of being alone.

Maybe that's why I never fought back when he hurt me. Maybe that's why I lied on how I got my scars. Maybe that's why I still told him I loved him like a father.

But now, as I walk through the abandoned neighborhoods and farms long forgotten by their owners, with nothing but a backpack on my back and a knife on my hip, I'm all alone. Perhaps, I should have listened to my dad.

Because, in this world now, you have to grow up.

And there is no room for a twelve-year-old girl like me.

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**Like? Don't like? Any feedback will be gladly accepted in the comments. Just tell me if you would like more and I will surely do so.**

**Bye, for now :)**


	2. Chapter 1: Emotions

**Thank you guys soooo much for all the wonderful reviews and PM's! It means a lot. :)**

***I do not own The Walking Dead. It belongs to its rightful owner.***

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Chapter 1: Emotions

Fear. The sound of peoples helpless cries as those "things" ripped into their flesh. Witnessing my dad have his freak-outs because he was having a drug and alcohol withdrawal. Holding my breath as I sat in the closet with my best friend; hiding from the soldiers. The soldiers that would shoot you whether you were bitten or not, because they aren't the savors of our country that we used to see on TV or learn about in school anymore. They're _different._

Confusion. People going up to police officers and such and questioning them. Questioning them on information they should know the answers to. "Why are people eating one another? How did this outbreak start?" They never got answers, though. At least, from what I saw. The authority would just brush them off, tell them it was going to be alright. Why? Because they didn't know the answers themselves. But they should have known the answers...

Alone. It has been roughly two months since this whole outbreak started. I was in a little camp just outside of town. My dad, my best friend, Payton, and Payton's parents were just some of the small group we had. We survived on supplies we had scavenged. Just last week, though, we got overrun. A horde of those freaks came through, killing Payton's parents. We all scattered and I had just barely made it out with my life. I did, however, get separated from my dad and Payton. I'll probably never see them again either. So now, here I am. Roaming around Georgia.

Atlanta. I heard that was a good place to go. At least, that was what my dad's radio had said before broadcasting stopped. The transmissions had said that there is a refugee camp in Atlanta. That it is safe there, not like out here. That the CDC is working on a cure. _A cure._ Too bad a cure can't fix all of the things I have witnessed since this outbreak started. Too bad a cure can't make my scars go away. Too bad a cure can't fix my dad's drug and alcohol problems. Too bad.

I guess my legs think it's a good idea to go to Atlanta, then, because they start carrying me there.

At least, I'll have a chance.

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My walk to Atlanta doesn't take long. It would have been faster by car but I have yet to meet a twelve-year-old girl with a license. When I lay my eyes on Atlanta, though, I gap at the city. It looks dull, worn down. Not the bright, busy city I used to see when my mom would drive here because she worked in Atlanta. Abandoned cars are piled up in the lane beside the one I am walking on. I keep observing and notice that all the cars were originally headed out of the city. I put my hand on my knife. My knife, that I barely know how to use properly, but I still keep it with me at all times. Just to make me feel safer. I put my hand on my knife and stare down at the city. Something just doesn't feel right.

But, I have to keep going, I must.

My legs must agree, too, because they then start moving again.

When I get into the city fully, it's not any more appealing than it looked from a far. Trash blows down the streets, stray dogs run around, and there is this weird eerie silence. I look down at my knife.

"Only if I have to." I tell myself quietly.

All the sudden, a gunshot rings loud and clear through the air. I perk up immediately. Could it be someone? A survivor? I hear more gunshots and I know then that it is real. There is someone out there. I break into a sprint. I run all the way down the street and turn a corner. Suddenly, I skid to a stop. I'm frozen. There, right in front of me, is a man. He is wearing some type of police uniform; hat and all; and is shooting at a big horde of ugly freaks. A horde just like the one that attacked camp. The man jumps on a tank; that is for whatever reason in the middle of the street; and continues to shoot at the freaks. I keep standing there, my sneakers feel like they're glued to the asphalt. A freak then notices me and the whole scene changes.

The freak comes at me, I scream, the man kills it, makes his way over to me, practically picks me up, and runs to the tank. Opening the tank door, he sets me inside. He follows and slams the door shut before any freaks can get in. I slide to the ground, my knees pulled to my chest. I can hear the freaks banging on the tank. I'm scared. I hate being scared. I told myself I wouldn't get scared. I told myself I'd be a big girl. I told myself I'd grow up.

The man crouches down in front of me. He touches my arm and I flinch. "Hey, I'm not going to hurt you." he reassures me. "I'm Rick Grimes, I'm a police officer. It's gonna be alright. I'll get us out of here, okay?"

I don't nod, I don't show any emotion. I just stare at the police man named Rick who just saved me. _Answer. _"I'm-I'm River..." I stutter out. "River...Parks..."

He looks me in the eye. His blue, warm eyes that practically scream that I can trust him bore into my own. "How old are you, River?"

"Twelve... I'm twelve-years-old."

"Are you alone?"

"Yes."

He gives me a sympathetic look. He feels bad but he shouldn't. My dad hated me anyways. Before I can tell Rick this, though, the radio in the corner bursts to life in a bunch of static.

_"Hey, you," _It speaks. _"Dumbass. Hey, you in the tank. Is it cozy in there?"_


	3. Chapter 2: Radio Voice

**Halloween was fun for me last night. My friends and I dressed up as walkers and almost no one came to my house, so I have a whole bowl of candy left over. YES! People also asked us if we watched The Walking Dead... XD**

***I own no part of The Walking Dead. Besides my OC, everything else belongs to its rightful owner.***

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Chapter 2: Radio Voice

Rick moves his gaze from me to the radio. The little radio in the corner. The little radio, that's in a tank, that makes me feel claustrophobic; even though I don't get claustrophobic. Rick looks back to me. His hand is still on my arm and his blue eyes, that still indicate I can trust him, keep their hold onto my green ones. My green eyes that my mom used to say looked like emeralds.

"Hey,_ you alive in there?"_

Rick breaks our silent stare and lets go of my arm. He quickly scurries over to the radio, hitting his head on the low ceiling in the process. He grabs the little piece that you speak into. "Hello, hello?"

_"Oh, there you are... I was wondering."_

"Where are you? Outside?" Rick asks the strange radio voice. I have been wondering this myself. How does he even know we're in a tank? "Can you see me right now?"

_"Yeah, you're surrounded by walkers. That's the bad news." _Walkers? I assume that's what they call the 'freaks'; walkers. Not a bad name...

"There's good news?" Good news, that's something I haven't heard in so long. It has almost become foreign to me.

_"No."_

"Listen," A quick glance over to me. "Whoever you are; and I don't mind telling you; I'm a little concerned in here."

_"Oh, man, you should see from over here. You'd be having a major freak-out."_

"Got any advice for me?"

_"Yeah, I'd say take a run for it." _

"That's it? Make 'a run for it'?"

I keep sitting on the floor of the tank. I feel sick, my stomach twisting in knots. No hope, no good news, major freak-outs, and the only advice is to "make a run for it". I can still hear the "walkers", as the radio voice called them, but they're not as loud anymore. I bury my head in my knees that are still being held to my chest. _Keep listening._

_"It's not as dumb as it sounds. You got eyes on the outside here. There is one still up on the tank but the rest have gone down to the 'feeding frenzy' where the horse went down."_ I don't know what he talking about with the horse but I don't question it. I keep my head buried. Besides, horses bring back too many memories. Memories I don't want to think about right now. It's the type of memories where you remember them, you cry, and then wish you could just go back to them. Those memories. _"You with me so far?"_

"So far."

_"Okay, the street on the other side of the tank is less crowded. If you move now, while they're distracted, you have a chance. Got ammo?"_

Feeling slightly better, I unbury my head from my knees. Rick is still in the corner, clutching the radio speaker in his hand. I watch him.

"In that duffel bag I dropped out there; and guns." He talks into the speaker. Once again, I have no idea what Rick is exactly talking about but I let it go. It doesn't really matter right now. If I want to, I can get the whole story later. "Can I get to it?"

_"Forget the bag, it's not an option. What do you have on you?"_

"Hang on," Rick drops the radio speaker and it clangs to the floor. He pulls a gun out of his waistband and checks what I believe is the chamber; which is where the bullets are held.

"I have a knife." I tell him softly, pulling up my shirt just enough to reveal my knife, securely in its holder on my thigh. I know a knife is not much but it is something. _Something._

Rick just gives me a soft look and I know that he's saying "thanks for trying". Sighing, I pull my shirt back down. Rick then crawls over to a body in the corner opposite from the radio. I turn my head in curiosity, having not have noticed the body before. It's a man, soldier to be exact, and its wearing a jacket with an army logo on it. The body has obviously been dead for awhile. Rick looks around the dead man's body before he grabs something. As he holds it in his hand, I recognize it as a bomb. He stares down at it, like he's trying to decide what to do with it.

"Yeah." I hear him mutter to himself before he shoves it into his pocket. Crawling back over to the radio, Rick tells the voice what ammo he has currently with him. The voice answers, telling Rick to make it count. He also gives Rick the instructions to where he is apparently at right now. Watching us.

"What's your name?" Rick asks. I want to know this too, yes, but now is not exactly the time for that. Besides, we are about to meet up with him. _Hopefully. _This is one of those act first, ask questions later kind of time.

_"Have you been listening? You're running out of time."_

The speaker falls to the ground once more, out of Rick's grasp. He quickly moves around the inside of the small tank, grabs some more items. Turning back to me, his eyes meet mine once more. Only this time, though, his look is much more serious.

"You stay close to me, okay?"

I nod.

He then moves to the door of the tank. I get up and into ready position. A couple seconds pass and before I know it, Rick opens the latch and jumps out of the tank. I hear a gunshot before he reaches down and pulls me out and up with him. We jump off the tank together and as soon as we regain our footing, Rick starts to fire his gun.

_Noise attracts walkers. _If I know anything, I know that. That's how my camp got overrun... because _they_ heard us. I don't tell Rick this, though, no. I just let him keep doing it as we run down the sidewalk, me at his side. I'm shy, always have been. It's just the way it is. I want to talk, speak up, but literally, I can't._ I can't_. It's one of the worse feelings.

_We_, Rick and I, we turn the corner, into an ally, only to slam on the brakes. A Chinese guy or something along those lines, I'm not sure, stops us.

"I'm not dead!" he yells at us and Rick puts down the gun that was once in his face. The guy tells us to "c'mon" and then I piece it together, like a puzzle. This guy is the person on the radio. Oh. The three of us run down the ally, the guy leading. Rick keeps shooting the walkers for some unknown reason but eventually, he runs out of bullets. We continue to run until we get to a ladder. The guy starts to climb and I follow him, Rick after me. We make it just in time, too, because the walkers that were chasing us close around at the bottom. When I get to the top, the Chinese guy helps me up, Rick, too. The three of us lean against the railing, try to catch our breath. I look down at the walkers below us. They look hungry.

"Nice moves there." the guy comments, panting just like Rick and I. He looks to Rick. "You the new sheriff? Come riding in to clean up the town?"

"Wasn't my intention." Rick tells him, certain.

"Yeah, whatever, ye-haw." I snort at the man's comment and he glances at me. "She your daughter or something?"

"No," Rick shakes his head. "Just found her. Name's River."

The man looks to me once again, me being me, though, I just wave. He looks back at Rick. "You're still a dumbass."

Rick ignores him, holds out his hand. "Rick, thanks."

He takes Rick's hand. "Glenn, you're welcome." He lets go of Rick's hand. "I'm, um, I'm Korean, by the way. Some people get confused... Figured it would be better to say it right off the bat."

Rick nods, stuffs his gun in his bag. I clutch one of the straps to my backpack that somehow throughout all this chaos, I still have.

Glenn looks over the railing. "Uh oh." Rick and I join him. The walkers still look the way they did when I looked earlier. Hungry. I shudder and move away. I look up at the rest of the ladder. It leads all the way up to the top of the building, where we want to be. Right now, we're just on a side platform.

Glenn joins me. "Bright side, it will be the fall that kills us."

"Great." I mutter more to myself than anyone. Rick joins us, too, and then we start climbing the ladder. It's a little hard for me because I'm slightly afraid of heights, but I suck it up and keep climbing. When we get to the top, I just keep following Glenn. Rick is still behind me and I find myself feeling more comfortable around him. He makes me feel a little bit safer, like I'm not completely alone.

"You the one who barricaded the ally?" he asks Glenn then.

"Somebody did," Glenn replies, meaning no. No, he did not barricade the ally. Someone else did. We hop over a small wall. "I guess when the city got overrun somebody was thinking that not many could get through it."

"Atlanta got overrun?" I ask, still using that small voice. The one I was using in the tank. The one I use when I'm unsure or nervous. Like when I would try and confront my dad when he was high or drunk.

"Yeah," Glenn replies, we start jogging. "Happened weeks ago, maybe longer. Where were you?"

"Outside of Atlanta. Camp got overrun last week."

"Oh, sorry..."

I don't reply.

We reach a trap door and Rick questions Glenn while opening it, "Back at the tank, why did you stick your neck out for us?"

"All that foolish, naïve hope." Glenn says while taking our bags and throwing them down the trap door. "Figured if I was that far in shit creek someone might do the same for me." He starts climbing down the trap door ladder. "Guess that makes me an even bigger dumbass than you."

I share a look with Rick before he gestures for me to go down first. I do and he shuts the door behind us. When we reach the bottom, I grab my backpack and sling it over my shoulder. Glenn and Rick get their bags too and the three of us start jogging. We jog through and building and a door. Beyond the door, is stairs and we start quickly moving down them.

Glenn takes out his walkie-talkie. Pressing down on the button, he speaks into it. "I'm back. Got a guess of four walkers in the ally." We reach the bottom of the stairs, then, but stop because there is walkers right in front of us. All the sudden, a door bangs open and two people wearing black armor jump out. For some reason; and I have no idea why; they remind me strangely of ninjas.

Glenn yells at us to move and we run through the door that the two people just came out of.

Once we slow down and I gather my bearings just a little bit, I realize that we may be in more trouble than I had thought.


	4. Chapter 3: New Faces

***I do not own The Walking Dead. Everything belongs to its rightful owner.***

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Chapter 3: New Faces

There is people in the warehouse. Two women. One of them, a blonde, grabs Rick by his shirt collar. She pushes him up against the wall, holding a gun in his face. The gun clicks. "Son of a bitch!" she yells in Rick's face. "I'm going to kill you!" I put my hand on my knife. I feel Glenn's hand on my arm, then, but I ignore it. All the nerves are back and I find myself once again scared. I trust Rick. He's the only person I have. If she kills him, this woman, I'll be alone again. And I don't want to be alone. It's scary.

"Chill out, Andrea." warns a man. I recognize him as one of the people who was just outside. The people I referred to as "ninjas". Andrea; which is what the man called her; doesn't listen, though. She keeps her gun pointed at its target. Rick. The man yells again, "Back off!"

"C'mon, ease up!" the other woman, a dark skinned one, says to Andrea.

"'Ease up'?" questions Andrea, still looking at Rick. "You're kidding, right? We're dead because of this stupid asshole."

"Andrea, I said back the hell off!" the man yells and I can tell he's about had it.

Andrea drops the gun. I release a breath, remove my hand from my knife. Glenn leaves his hand on my arm. Andrea looks to Rick when she speaks. "We're dead, all of us, because of _you_." Rick looks confused and I'm confused too. What is she talking about? Andrea then notices me. "Oh, great, you brought your daughter too."

I bit my lip, not knowing what to say. Glenn, still having my arm in his grasp, comes to my rescue. "She's not his daughter, he found her. She didn't shoot up the streets either, doesn't even have a gun."

"Well, at least someone has some sense." I hear Andrea mumble. I'm not really sure what she means by it, though.

"I don't understand," says Rick, moving off the wall. Glenn lets go of my arm and I look back at him. I mouth "thanks" to him and he nods.

"Look," the man's voice leads me to turn back around. He grabs Rick and starts to walk out of the room. Rick motions me to follow. Everybody else follows as well. "We came to the city to scavenge supplies. You know what the key to scavenging is? Surviving. You know what the key to surviving is? Coming in and out, tiptoeing. Not shooting up the streets."

We stop in a department store. My eyes widen. A whole herd of walkers, the ones outside, are at the doors made of glass. Banging on it.

"Every geek from miles around heard you poppin' off rounds." explains a dark skinned man. He was the other man that was outside.

"You just rang the dinner bell." adds Andrea.

"Get the picture now?" asks the other man and I wish I knew their names because it would be much easier. I don't ask, though, I'm too shy. I continue to stare at the walkers. One has a rock and starts to bang on the glass with it. The glass cracks. I shut my eyes for a second, wishing that the glass didn't just crack; that I'd imagined it. When I open my eyes again, though, and see the glass still cracked, I look down. _Crap. _Turning around, the seven of us go back into the warehouse part of the store.

"What the hell were you two doing out there anyway?" Andrea asks Rick and I.

"Trying to find the helicopter." Rick replies. I scrunch my eyebrows. What?

"Helicopter?" questions the dark colored skin man. "That's crap, man, there was no helicopter."

"It was a hallucination." adds the lady. "You were imagining things. It happens."

"I saw it." Rick turns to me. "Didn't you see it, River?"

I shake my head and for the first time since I entered this warehouse, I speak. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

The subject is then once again changed and the man looks to the dark skinned man. "Hey, T-dog, try that walkie-talkie. Can you contact the others?" T-dog grabs the walkie-talkie on his belt, holds it up to his face.

"_Others?_" repeats Rick, I turn my attention to him. "The refugee center?"

"Yeah, the refugee center." the lady says in a mocking matter. "They got biscuits in the oven waiting for us."

I swallow. I guess there is no refugee center after all. All those broadcasts I listened to was for nothing. Atlanta is _nothing_. At least, I'm not alone anymore.

T-dog groans. "No signal. Maybe the roof?"

All the sudden, I hear a gunshot coming from the roof. I look up at the ceiling.

"Oh, God, was that Dixon?" Andrea asks. I'm not really sure who "Dixon" is but I have a good assumption that it is someone from their group. Another gunshot is heard and we start running up to the roof. When we get there, I see a man with short, blonde hair. He has a rifle and is aiming at the walkers down below.

"Hey, Dixon!" shouts the man. "Are you crazy?"

Dixon laughs and turns around. Facing us. "Oh, hey!" he speaks in a loud, booming voice. Kind of like my father's. "You ought to be more polite to a man with a gun. It's common sense."

"Man, you're wastin' bullets we don't even got, and you're bringing walkers down here on our ass!" T-dog protests at him.

"Hey, it's bad enough I got this 'taco bender' on my ass all day, and now, I gotta take orders from you? I don't think so, bro, that'll be the day."

"'That'll be the day'..." T-dog repeats, taking a step closer to the man. "You got somethin' you wanna tell me?"

"Hey, T-dog, man, just leave it." the man tells T-dog but he ignores him. "C'mon, it ain't worth it." He looks to Dixon. "Now, Merle, just relax, okay? We got enough trouble."

"You wanna know the day?" asks Merle and I come to a conclusion that his last name is Dixon.

"Yeah."

"I'll tell you the day 'mister yoe'."

Merle calls T-dog names; which leads T-dog to attack him. They get into a fight; which then leads to Rick's "Sheriff side" to come out and he gets involved. Cause and effect happens, and Merle gets handcuffed to a post. I learn that the man's name is Morales and the woman's is Jacqui. Now, Andrea, Jacqui, and I are looking down at the walkers down on the streets.

"My God, look at all of them." comments Andrea. There is tons of them, just roaming around.

"How's that signal?" I hear Morales ask T-dog. I look away from the walkers.

"Like Dixon's brain, _weak_."

"Keep trying."

"Why?" Andrea asks, looking away from the walkers. "There's nothing we can do. Not a damn thing."

Morales looks to Rick and I, explains. "Got some people outside the city." We nod. "There is no refugee center. That was all a lie."

"Then she's right," Rick says, referring to Andrea. "We're on our own. Up to us to find a way out."

"Good luck with that," Merle scoffs, I look down at him. "These streets aren't safe and from what I hear, no part of town is." He looks to Andrea. "Ain't that right, sugar tits?"

She ignores him.

"Hey, honey bun, why don't you get me out of these cuffs? Bob some uglies? We're gonna die anyway."

"I'd rather."

I quietly laugh to myself. Merle looks to me.

"Well, what about you? Huh?" I swallow, don't answer. "You don't talk very much, do ya? Quiet type."

"Merle, leave her alone!" Rick warns.

"Don't get yer panties in a bunch, Officer Friendly. Just chattin' is all." Merle looks at me again. "Right?"

I move. I go over to Rick and Morales, stand beside Rick.

"The streets aren't safe." states Rick.

"That's an understatement," Morales interjects. "What about under the streets?"


	5. Chapter 4: Escape

**It's official.**

**I'm addicted to writing this story.**

**Oh, and to answer xXAdventureTimedaBossXx question: Yes, I am going to write every episode. I am just going to change it up a bit so hopefully it will be interesting.**

**Also, a huge "thanks" to klondike24680 for all the nice comments! :)**

***I do not own The Walking Dead. It belongs to its rightful owner.***

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Chapter 4: Escape

Morales moves away from the edge of the roof. He looks to Glenn. "Hey, Glenn, check the ally. Do you see any manhole covers?"

Glenn nods and jogs over to the edge of the roof. He takes a quick look down before he turns back around and jogs back to us. "No, must be all out on the streets where the geeks are." he explains to us in between breaths.

"Maybe not," Jacqui speaks up. "Old buildings like this; built in the 20's; often had drainage tunnels that lead into the sewers in case of floods."

"How do you know that?" Glenn asks.

"It's my job, _was._ I worked in the city."

"My mom worked in the city too..." I absentmindedly say aloud. When I realize I said it, though, I look down.

"Really? Where'd she work?"

"I-I don't know." And I really don't know. That was so long ago and I was younger. I don't even think my mom even mentioned where she worked. All I remember is it had something to do with an office. Yeah.

"The drainage tunnels, I know where we can find it." Glenn says, then, getting us back on track.

Rick steps forward. "Well, let's go check it out."

* * *

We leave T-dog on the roof with Merle. Probably not the best decision since they just fought, but Morales orders it. He's the one that seems to be in charge here, so what he says, goes. Clutching my flashlight that Rick gave to me, I shine it down the pitch black drainage tunnel. We're in the basement of the department store, and just like Jacqui said, there is indeed a drainage tunnel.

"This is it, you sure?" Morales asks Glenn.

Glenn nods. "I really scoped this place out the other times I was here. It's the only thing in the building that goes down, but I've never gone down it. Who'd want to, right?" Glenn looks at us and there must be something in our face that says we have to go down there, because his voice lowers; followed by an "Oh, great.". Don't get me wrong, I don't want to go down there either, but if it gives us a better chance of leaving this place, I'm in. I want to leave.

"We'll be right behind you," Andrea reassures Glenn but he shakes his head.

"No, you won't. _Not you_."

"Why not me? Think I can't?"

"Wasn't-"

Rick interrupts. "Speak your mind."

Glenn sighs. "Look, until now, I always came here by myself. In and out, grab a few things, no problem. First time I bring a group, everything goes to hell." He looks to Rick and I. "No offence." I shrug, he turns so he's talking to all of us again. "If you allow me to go down this dark hole, fine, but only if we do it my way." The rest of the group shares a quick look. "It's tight down there. If I run into something and I need to get out quick, I don't want _you _behind me and get _us _killed. I'll take one person." Rick takes a step towards him, volunteering. I don't really want him to go and I guess Glenn doesn't either, because he slightly pushes him back towards me. "Not you either. You've got Merle's gun and I've seen you shoot. I'd feel better if you're in that store, watching those doors, covering our ass."

Rick nods. He then looks to me. "You're with me." I nod.

Glenn points to Andrea. "You have the only other gun so you should go with them." Andrea nods, moves over to Rick and I. He points to Morales. "You. Be my wingman." Lastly, Glenn points to Jacqui. "Jacqui, stay here. If something happens, yell down to us and get us back up here in a hurry."

"Okay."

Rick walks up to Glenn. He pats his shoulder. "Okay, everybody knows their jobs."

* * *

Rick, Andrea, and I walk back into the department store. The walkers are still there, yes, banging on the doors. We walk a little bit closer, I observe that the glass looks more cracked.

"Sorry for the gun in your face," Andrea apologizes to Rick. She looks to me. "And for being a jerk."

"People do things when they're afraid." Rick states.

"Not that it's entirely unjustified. You did get us into _this_."

"If I get you guys out, will it make up for it?"

"No, but it would be a start."

I lean up against a shelf that has some toys on it; rubber ducks and such. I listen to the two adults talk.

Rick looks at Andrea's gun in her hand. "Next time, though, take the safety off. Don't shoot otherwise."

"Oh."

"Is that your gun?"

"It was a gift. Why?"

Rick takes the gun from her. He does something to it and it clicks. "The little red dot means it's ready to fire. May have an occasion to use it."

"Good to know."

Rick gives his gun back to Andrea. Andrea walks to the shelf beside the one I'm currently leaning on. She picks up a necklace with a mermaid on it.

Rick approaches her from behind. "See something you like?"

"Not me, but I know someone who would. My sister."

"You have a sister?" I ask. I never had a sibling being an only child. People would always complain about how their brother or sister was annoying, but secretly, I kinda always wanted one. Or, at least, to feel what's like to have one.

Andrea nods, keeping the necklace in her palm. "Her name's Amy. She's still such a kid in some ways. Unicorns, dragons, she's into all that stuff. But mermaids, they rule."

"Why not take it?" Rick suggests.

"There's a cop staring at me." I remember Rick is a cop and Andrea looks to him. "Would it be considered looting?"

"I don't think those rules apply anymore. Do you?"

Andrea stuffs the necklace in her pocket and there then is the sound of smashing glass. I quickly move off the shelf and move up beside Rick and Andrea. The walkers have broken through the first set of glass doors and they are now at the second set. The second set, the only set left. The only thing keeping us away from their hungry mouths. The noise must have attracted Jacqui, Morales, and Glenn's attention because they then appear in the doorway.

"What did you find down there?" Rick asks them.

"Not a way out." replies Morales.

"We need to find a way out." Andrea states, looking at the walkers. "_Soon_."

* * *

We end back on the roof. Rick has a pair of binoculars, staring out into the street. "That construction site, those trucks." He says while pointing to big, white trucks in the middle of the street. "They always have keys on hand."

Rick hands the binoculars for Morales to have a look. "We'll never make it past those walkers."

"You got us out of that tank."

"Yeah, but they were feeding. They were distracted."

"Can we distract them again?"

"Right, yeah," Merle cuts in. He is still handcuffed to the pipe. "Listen to him, he's onto something. A diversion."

"They're drawn by sound, right?" Rick asks.

"Right," confirms Glenn. "Like dogs. They hear sound, they come."

"Anything else?"

"Just like they hear you, they see you. They smell you. And if they catch you, they eat you." Morales explains.

"They can tell us by smell?"

"Can't you?" asks Glenn and he's right. I could tell when someone didn't wear deodorant in school. They stunk. "They smell dead, we don't. It's pretty distinct."

Rick looks down for a second and I can tell he's thinking. When he looks back up, though, he speaks.

"I have an idea."

* * *

Basically, Rick's "great idea" is to put dead walker guts on him and Glenn. They are going to walk through the horde of walkers and if the plan works, the walkers won't try to eat them. The goal is to get to the trucks on the construction site so we can leave. The plan isn't bad, I can say that, but it's too risky. I don't protest, though. I let them carry on with the plan and I even put on a white lab coat as instructed. I do because what can a twelve-year-old say? They won't listen... They're _adults_. They have no time to listen to a kid like me.

The door opens and Rick and Morales drag in a dead walker body. They set it down and I watch as Rick puts a mask on. He then gets an axe off the wall and walks back over to the body. Rick raises the axe and I'm ready for him to do it, for the guts and blood. But it never comes. Instead, the axe clatters to the ground and Rick pulls the mask off. Crouching down, he starts to go through the pockets of the dead body. I watch him with question. _What is he doing?_

Finally, Rick pulls out a wallet. He opens it and starts to look through it. "Wayne Dunlap, Georgia license. Born in 1979." He hands the license off to Glenn. "He had twenty eight dollars in his pocket when he died, and a picture of a pretty girl." Rick holds up the picture and reads the note scribbled on it. "_With love, From, Rachel._" He puts the picture back in the wallet before speaking again. "He used to be like us. Worrying about bills, the rent, or the superbowl. If I ever find my family, I'm gonna tell them about Wayne."

Family. I never thought about that before, Rick having a family. I guess I just assumed they were dead. Dead_, _like my family probably is. _Gone._

I watch as Rick gathers all of Wayne's stuff togther and puts it back in the wallet. He shoves it back in Wayne's pocket before he stands up; putting the mask back on in the process. He picks up the axe that was once discarded on the floor and raises it above his head. I back up. I'm not sure if I exactly want to see this...

"One more thing," Glenn quickly adds before Rick brings the axe down. "He was an organ donor."

Rick gives him a quick glance before he brings the axe down. The sound of bones cracking is heard and I look away. I'd feel better if I didn't see that. I keep my back turned and listen to the sound of Rick endlessly bringing the axe down on the body. I cringe.

"Oh, man..." someone groans.

"Damn!"

Finally, Rick stops and I turn back around. It smells terrible. Worse than that field trip my class took to a recycling plant in the fourth grade. Much worse.

Rick takes off the mask. He turns and hands both the mask and axe to Morales. "Keep chopping." I notice Glenn looks like he's going to puke.

"Oh, man," he groans, looking a bit green. "It smells so bad."

"Later," Morales tells us before he starts chopping where Rick left off. This time, though, I don't look away. This is part of growing up, right? Looking at disgusting things? I mean, my dad could do it. And he was a grown up.

Rick asks us if we all have gloves and there is a chorus of moaning "yes's". I take my gloves out from my back pocket and put them on. They are the stretchy kind, the kind scientists would use. The kind that the kids in my science class would blow up like balloons, only to later get yelled at by Miss. Lytle, the science teacher. I miss those days.

Morales stops chopping, Rick cautions us. "Don't get any on your skin or in your eyes." Nodding, some of the group members bend down and gather some guts off the body. They start to put it on Glenn and Rick. After a moment of hesitation, I give in and bend down over Wayne, or what used to be of Wayne. I get some guts off of the "used to be Wayne" and hold it in my gloved hands. I take deep breaths so I don't puke._ Breathe, swallow, breathe, swallow._ Standing back up, I walk over to Glenn. I make brief eye contact with him before I smear the guts all over his lab white lab coat.

"Aww, it smells really bad." he complains as I continue to wipe the guts all over him.

"Just think about something else," Rick reassures him. "Puppies and kittens."

"Dead puppies and kittens." T-dog adds to the statement. Glenn doubles over, then, starts puking. I jump back and away from Glenn. Looking away, I put the side of my glove that's not covered in guts, up to my mouth. _Breathe, swallow, breathe, swallow._

"That is just evil! What is wrong with you?" scolds Andrea.

"Really," I add but it's more of a whisper. I've never been one to have a loud voice.

"I'm sorry." T-dog apologizes.

"You suck!" Glenn groans, still doubled over on the ground. Feeling just a little better, I put my disgusting smelling glove down. Back to my side.

"Do we smell like them?" Rick asks and I think so. Maybe even worse. Andrea says that they do smell like the walkers. She then shoves a gun in Glenn's waistband and tells him "just in case". Just in case, that's my rule with my knife. Rick tells us if they make it back, to be ready and I don't like the _if_ he throws in. Because _if _means maybe not. They might not make it back.

"What about Merle Dixon?" T-dog asks, questionably. Merle, I almost forgot... He's still on the roof. _Handcuffed. _I don't really like him...

Rick answers the question by giving the key to T-dog. He then turns to Morales. "Give me the axe. We need more guts."

"Oh, god!"

* * *

Nerves. That's the first thing that hits me when T-dog, Morales, Andrea, Jacqui, and I scale the steps to the roof after we sent Glenn and Rick out in the horde. I'm nervous, really nervous. There is so many things that could go bad and when we finally reach the roof and look down at the horde once again, the nerves get even worse. _Fantastic._

"Hey, what's happening man?" Merle tries to get our attention, only to be ignored.

"Hey T-dog, try the walkie-talkie." Morales requests.

"Hey, talk to me ya'll!" Merle keeps pressing for our attention.

"This is T-dog, anybody hear me?" T-dog talks into the walkie-talkie. Morales picks up the binoculars, looking for Rick and Glenn.

He points. "There." I follow his hand and sure enough there is Glenn and Rick, walking amongst the crowd of walkers. All the sudden, I hear thunder and I gaze up at sky. What used to be a clear, blue sky with white, puffy clouds is now replaced by dark, storm clouds. I hate storms. I mean, I like rain and all; it's just I hate thunderstorms.

"Is that asshole down there with the handcuff keys?" Merle asks, referring to Rick. T-dog shows him the key, then, and that zips Merle's mouth right up. I hear static noises coming from the walkie-talkie. T-dog grabs it in a hurry.

"Shane, is that you? We're trapped in a department store. There's geeks everywhere, hundred's of 'em. We're surrounded." I don't hear anything come from the other side and T-dog groans in frustration. I'm not sure who this "Shane" guy is. "Damnit! We lost the connection!"

Just then, it starts to rain. The nice, cool droplets feel good against my smothering skin from the Georgia heat.

"Oh, man..." Morales says and then reality hits me. Since it's raining, it will wash the guts right off of them. And if the guts are gone, the walkers will smell them. Oh, no...

"We get these all the time!" Morales yells over the rain since it is now pouring. My brown hair is sticking to my face. "It will pass real quick!"

As I feared, the rain washes off the scent and Rick and Glenn start killing the walkers with the axes they brought. I wipe some rain water off my forehead and watch as Rick and Glenn run to the gate of the construction site. The rain then stops and the two climb over the fence. Once they are on the other side, they shed their white, lab coats. The walkers are up on the gate, trying to get in. Some even manage to climb it and Rick shoots them down. Glenn gets the keys to a van and him and Rick run to a nearby one. Once they are inside the van, the gate breaks down from all the pressure. The van starts to move and it drives away, out of the city. Wait... what?

"They're leaving us," Andrea says, panic in her tone.

"No, no, no, no, no." Morales repeats over and over.

"No, come back!"

I clench my fists, they can't leave us. Why would they, anyway? We just went through all that trouble. _They can't._

The walkie-talkie then comes to life, Glenn's voice. _"There's a roller door at the front of the store facing the street. Meet us there and be ready."_

No time is wasted. I jump up, grab my backpack that I had left on the roof, and sling it over my shoulder.

"C'mon, let's go!" Morales calls to everybody.

"Hey, you can't leave me here!" Merle protests, still handcuffed. "Don't do this man! Come back!"

"C'mon!" yells Andrea, we're now at the stairs. T-dog turns to Merle and I realize he is going to help him. Morales tells T-dog that we're leaving and just like that, the four of us, barrel down the stairs. Without T-dog; without Merle.

We run. We run through the department store with all the walkers at the glass, through a door, and into a room. We keep running till we get to the chains that open the roller door. There is nothing we can do until Rick and Glenn get here, but we latch onto the chains anyway. Just to be ready.

There is then a car alarm heard. Morales tells us to be quiet.

"What is that?" Andrea asks.

Before there can be anymore discussion about the alarm, T-dog barges into the room. I notice Merle is not with him. "I'm here!" he confirms. "Let's go, let's go!" There is a knock on the roller door and we pull the chains. The door opens, revealing Rick. He has the back of the van open and motions for us to get inside. Without further hesitation, I give my bag to Rick. He sets it inside the van and then helps me up and into the van. Everyone else climbs inside and Rick jumps in the drivers seat.

All the sudden, walkers appear and panic sets in. Rick floors it and with the van's back door still being open, I hold on for dear life. Morales then steps forward, slamming the door closed. I lean my head back on the wall, sigh. My bag is in my grasp. Morales jumps in the passenger seat and Rick turns around, quickly doing a silent headcount.

"I dropped the damn key." T-dog says, explaining Merle's absence. Nobody says anything and I guess they weren't very found of Merle either.

I try to relax my body but it goes rigid when Andrea asks. "Where's Glenn?"


	6. Chapter 5: Like I'd Anticipated

**I'm tired.**

**My neighbor's dogs won't stop barking at night.**

**I have a headache.**

**You don't care, though. **

**So, why am I even saying this?**

**I blame it on the dogs.**

***I do not own The Walking Dead. It belongs to its rightful owner.***

* * *

Chapter 5: Like I'd Anticipated

Rick explains. He clears the fog from our brains. He tells us that Glenn is in a car; leading the walkers away. He tells us that it was the only way we could escape Atlanta safely. He tells us not to worry. I don't worry. I think the others worry but I don't. I don't because that is what Rick, the grown up, said not to do. And that is what is part of growing up, _listening._

I rest my head on the wall and try to relax my sore muscles. I've been constantly on the run for so long that it feels nice just to sit back; relax. As I sit here, I come to a realization on how tired and hungry I truly am. I can't remember the last time I actually got a goodnight sleep or had an actual meal; honestly. Ever since I've been on my own, my night's would usually consist of tying myself down in a tree, in hopes that I would not be spotted. My meals, well, they weren't even considered "meals". Just whatever I could find in the nearest gas station or CVS.

"What happened to your arms?" Andrea's voice jolts me up and into an upright position. My eyes move down to my arms. I'm wearing a short sleeved shirt because it is so hot in Georgia; especially at this time of year; and my arms, of course, are exposed. Showing my scars. My scars that my dad gave me. _My dad._

I look up at Andrea, my green eyes meeting her hazel ones. I make up some excuse in my head but my when I go to say it, all that comes out is, "Uhh..."

"Did you- did you fall or something?" Andrea presses further. I'd wish she'd stop.

"You could say that." I say in a low tone before dropping my head. I feel Rick's eyes on me and I can imagine what they look like. Concerned. He doesn't have to be, though. He doesn't have to feel bad for me. I don't want him to. I don't want _anyone _to.

"Can you at least tell me how old you are?" Andrea's voice again, only this time quieter. More... unsure. Like I don't have to tell her if I don't want to.

"I'm twelve," I blurt out, keeping my eyes down. "Just twelve."

* * *

The rest of the ride is pretty fuzzy. Using Morales directions, Rick keeps driving towards "home"; which is what Morales calls it. I keep my head down the entire time. I don't want to meet anyone's eye. Nobody. I trace over my scars with a finger to give me something to do, but stop once when I feel eyes on me. Glenn, however, does pass us while we are on the road. The loud noise of a car alarm like we heard earlier pierces the air and then Glenn flies by in a red muscle car, yelling in joy.

"At least someone is having a good day." Morales comments.

When we finally reach the camp, we are in the mountains, the pretty part of Georgia. Lush woods surround the whole camp and there is a lake as well. I see parked vehicles, an RV among them. There's people, a lot of people. More than I've seen in months. Rick puts the van in park and Morales turns to him.

"Come meet everybody." He turns around in his seat, looks to me. "You too." I give the smallest nod of understanding and then he gets out of the van. The others do the same and before I know, it's just Rick and me. Just like old times. I move, then, climb into the now vacant passenger seat. I twist my body so I'm facing Rick. My sneakers are on the seat, my back up against the doorframe.

"When we get out, I want you to stay close to me." Rick carefully explains to me. "We don't know these people, remember."

"They could be dangerous," I add, tuck a loose strand of brown hair behind my ear. "Back when I was out _there,_ there was a lot of people like that. They would act friendly only to turn around and stab you in the back. _Literally_. Those people, they would rob you. Leave you for the walkers."

Rick listens to every word. His mouth is pulled into a firm line. "Did this ever happen to you?"

I open my mouth to tell Rick. To tell him about the nice man, George, we stumbled across. How my dad and Payton's dad took George back to camp, sat down with him. They let their guard down for just a second and that's when George pounced. He had two other buddies and they jumped out of the woods, armed. A fight broke out and all I could do was watch with Payton as we huddled under a picnic bench. In the end, George's buddies abandoned him, and my dad, well, he killed George. He killed him in cold blood with Payton and I watching. It was terrifying. I want to tell Rick this, I do, but Morales calls us just then.

"Hey, guys! Come say hello!"

Rick and I climb out of the van and together, we walk towards the group of people gathered before us.

Morales looks to a man with black, bushy hair. "Guy's a cop, like you." he explains to him. The man looks at us like he can't believe what he's seeing. I've never seen the man in my life. I then do another look and realize he's staring at Rick. _Rick._

All the sudden, a boy about my age and a woman (who I assume is the boy's mom) look at Rick the same way. Rick looks straight at the pair.

"Oh my God..."

Rick starts speed walking towards the pair, leaving me alone. So much for the "stay close to me".

"Dad!" yells the boy and that's when I get it. That's Rick's family, _his family_. The family he mentioned in Atlanta. They're alive. Rick's son and his wife sprint to him. They hug and kiss and cry tears of joy. As they are doing this, though, I can't help but feel alone. Like how I was before I met Rick.

Rick found his family.

He doesn't need to bother with me anymore.

* * *

I pull my sweatshirt tighter around me, bury myself into it. It's cold. Kind of weird for Georgia; especially when it's still summer; but I guess I should have expected it up in the mountains. The fire that the whole group is gathered around makes a crackling noise. The group. That's what I call them. Not _my _group. Just the group. They are just "the group" to me because I barely even know anybody. Sure, I know their names but names are just names. A simple word. Nothing more than that.

Simple words like, Lori, Rick's wife, and his son, Carl. Like Dale, a man that likes to wear weird looking hats and also looks after Andrea and Amy. There's Jim, who has no family left. No family like me. There is also Shane, Rick's best friend, the leader of the group. Carol, a woman more on the timid side like me and her husband, Ed, and their daughter that is my age, Sophia.

Those people.

Those simple words.

"Disoriented," Rick speaks, huddled up with his family. "I guess that comes closest. Disoriented, fear, confusion, all those things. But disoriented, that defiantly comes closest." He's talking about feelings, how he felt. How Rick felt about the world basically turning upside down. Apparently, Rick had gotten shot while on duty as Sheriff. He was admitted to the hospital, ending up in a coma. When he finally woke up, though, he woke up to this. Dead people walking around.

"Words can be a meter of things." Dale comments. "Sometimes, they fall short, though."

"I felt like I had been ripped out of my life and put somewhere else. For awhile, I thought I was trapped in some coma, dream. Something I might not wake up from. Ever." I sniffle from the cold. Rick looks at me. I don't why he does, though. Ever since he was reunited with his family, he hasn't paid much attention to me. Just like I had anticipated. Rick continues to look at me and he may not say a word, but his face does. _You okay?_

I shrug. Brush him off. He doesn't need to worry about me, he's got his family to take care of now. I'll work something out. Maybe I could leave tomorrow morning or something. As much as I hate being alone, I'd rather be alone than with people that don't even want me around. I'm probably just a bother. Another person to look after, another mouth to feed. I don't know, though. Maybe I should give it a try and see what happens.

"Mom said you died." Rick's son's voice comes through in a sad tone.

"She had every reason to believe that." Rick tells him. "Don't you ever doubt it."

Lori and Shane share a look before Lori speaks. "When things started to get really bad, they told me at the hospital that they were going to medevac you and the other patients to Atlanta. But, it never happened."

"Well, I'm not surprised after Atlanta fell. From the look of that hospital, it got overrun."

"If looks don't deceive, I barely got them out." Shane claims, talking about Lori and Carl. I remember it was very hard to get out, away. Between the infected and the soldiers that would kill you for no reason, survival was almost impossible. It still is.

"I can't tell you how grateful I am to you, Shane. Can't even begin to express it." Rick tells him, gratefully. Shane doesn't reply so I decide to. Me, the girl with the small, timid voice. Me, the girl with scars lining her arms. Me, River Parks, the girl that is somehow still alive throughout this mess, decides to speak up. _Me._

"Thanks, for um, you know, helping me out back there in Atlanta. It means a lot." I fumble a bit but I still get the words out.

He looks to me, the fire illuminating off of his face. "You're welcome."

Just then, Ed decides to stand up from his chair and throw another log into the fire. Yeah, sure, it gets slightly warmer but shouldn't he have asked first? I don't know...

"Hey Ed, couldn't you save that log?" Shane asks the man, annoyance in his tone.

"It's cold, man."

"Cold doesn't change the rules, does it? We keep our fires low so we can't be seen from a distance."

"I said it's cold!" Ed snaps, his voice raised. "Mind your own business for once!" I shrink into my sweatshirt a little bit. I hate yelling. It reminds too much of my dad. My dad and his yelling. _I hate it._

Shane seems to hate it too because he stands up, up and over to Ed. "You sure you wanna have this conversation, man?"

Ed is silent. I study his face and observe that he is like my dad. Sure, he may not look anything like my dad, but he sure acts like him. It's his image, how he comes across. Ed points to the fire, talking to Shane. "Go on, pull that thing out. Go on!" Carol gets up and sits over by her daughter, clearly not happy by her husband's behavior.

Shane removes the log from fire, smoldering the flames out with his boot. He then pauses and talks briefly to Carol and Sophia. He asks them how they are this evening, makes sure they're okay. Things a good leader would do. Carol tries to apologize for her husband's behavior but Shane brushes her off, leaves her with the sentence "Have a good night.", before coming back to us.

"Have you given any thought to Daryl Dixon?" Dale asks, changing the subject. That's something I have noticed about this group, they always change the subject. Move from one thing to another. I don't know who this "Daryl Dixon" is but considering him and Merle have the same last name, they are most likely related. Perfect. "He won't be very happy to hear his brother was left behind." Brothers. Siblings, like Andrea and Amy.

"I'll tell him. I dropped the key." T-dog says, taking the wrath of whatever Merle's brother is going to give him.

"I cuffed him, that makes him mine." argues Rick.

"Guys, it's not a competition." Glenn advises them both before the argument can escalate. "Don't mean to bring racism in this, but, it would sound better coming from a white guy."

"I did what I did and I'm not gonna hid from it." confirms T-dog, confidently. I wish I could be that confident about things. In my mind I tell myself I can do something, but as soon as I go to do it, I fall short.

Amy tells T-dog that there is always the option to lie. Andrea, however, says that we could tell the truth. Be reasonable. "Merle was out of control. Something had to be done or he would have gotten us all killed. Rick did what was necessary and if Merle got left behind, that is nobody's fault but Merle's."

"And that's what we tell Daryl?" Dale questions like it's not good enough. Like there is a better solution. "I don't see a rational discussion from that. Do you?"

Andrea shakes her head, rests it on her arms. "We're gonna have our hands full when he gets back from his hunt." So, Daryl is on some kind of hunt. That explains his absence.

"I was scared, I ran. I'm not ashamed of it." T-dog states, using his confident tone once again that I wish I had.

"We all were. We all ran. What's your point."

"I stopped long enough to chain that door. Staircase is narrow, maybe half a dozen geeks can squeeze against it all at one time. It wouldn't be enough to break it, though. Not that chain. Not that padlock." T-dog looks at Andrea. "My point is, Dixon's alive. He's still up there, handcuffed on that roof. And that's on _us_."

* * *

Shortly after T-dog's speech on how leaving Merle is on "us", everyone starts to head to bed. Glenn tells me I can bunk with him, so I move my stuff into his tent. I set my sleeping bag up in the corner and taking off my sneakers, I slip into it. I try to get warm. Glenn comes into the tent, then, and I hear it start to rain followed by a rumble or thunder. Great, another storm. Glenn hurriedly moves up to the front of the tent and zips it shut before any water has a chance to get in. He then starts getting ready for bed. I stare at the ceiling of the tent.

"Thanks for letting me stay with you."

"No problem," I hear him plop down on his cot that is across from me. The rain gets louder, more thunder. "Besides, I wasn't going to let you sleep outside."

I smile to myself, keep looking at the ceiling.

Glenn then moves and switches off the little lantern that was the only light source in the tent. "Goodnight."

I mumble "night" before I close my eyes. They snap right open, though. They do because I have a hard time sleeping. I get nightmares.

I roll over. "Glenn?"

"Hmm?"

"I-I don't sleep very well..."

I hear him shift in his cot. "Nightmares?"

"Yeah."

"River, it's okay. I don't have watch tonight so I'll be here all night. It'll be okay."

"Okay." I mumble, more like whimper. I roll back over and bury my head in my sleeping bag. I bury my head and try to forget all the terrible things that haunt my dreams. I try to take comfort in the fact that I'm not alone. That there is another person with me.

That they told me everything will be okay.


	7. Chapter 6: Kids My Age

**I love you guys. I love you guys so much.**

**You're all so nice to me. **

**Don't worry, Crossbows-and-dreams I didn't think you copied the name. I have actually seen it used a couple of times. I just liked the song Holding On and Letting Go and thought it fit, so yeah.. I don't think you copied. Not at all :)**

***I do not own The Walking Dead. It belongs to its rightful owner.***

* * *

Chapter 6: Kids My Age

When I wake up, Georgia is back to its humid self. Glenn, however, is not in the tent. I hear voices outside and I assume he already up. He kept his promise last night. My nightmares weren't as bad, but when I did startle awake, he was still there. Just like he said. _Promised._

I get out of my sleeping bag. Stripping out of my sweatshirt that I left on from last night, I breathe a sigh of relief. It was so hot wearing it, felt like a sauna. Looking around, I notice a pair of jeans and a shirt sitting out for me. _Weird_. I grab the garments, anyways, and put them on. Tying my sneakers, I walk out of the tent.

Carol is the first person I see. She has a ironing board and I spot my clothes on it. _My clothes._ _The clothes I had in my bag. _Curiosity gets the best of me and I walk up to the woman.

"Morning," she greets me, looking up from the iron board.

"Morning," I reply back, a little hesitant. I always have trouble talking to people but it seems Carol is a bit on the timid side, too, so I think I'll be okay. "You-you washed my clothes?"

"Yeah. They're not dry yet, though. Just trying to help out."

No one has ever done that for me before. After my mom left, I taught myself to do my own laundry. Sometimes, I would even have to do my dad's because he was too drunk or high. I didn't want to do it, not at all. I just knew the consequences if I didn't. "Thank you."

Carol nods. I then spot Rick walking over to Glenn who is standing by the red muscle car he stole yesterday. I don't know if I should, but I let my legs move and I follow Rick over to Glenn.

When I get over to them, the two glance at me. Members of the group are taking apart the car. Morales rolls a tire away, Dale is siphoning the gas out.

"Look at them," Glenn speaks, arms crossed. "Vultures." He looks to the group members. "Hey, go on! Strip it clean!"

"Generators need every drop of food they can get, got no power without it." Dale explains. He pats Glenn's shoulder. "Sorry, Glenn."

As Dale walks away, Glenn mutters. "Thought I'd get to drive it at least a few more days."

"Maybe we can steal another one?" I suggest. For some reason, I feel pretty comfortable talking with Rick and Glenn. Perhaps, it's because I met them first.

"If we ever find another one..."

Rick cracks the tiniest of smiles. Patting Glenn on the back, he turns and starts walking away in the other direction. He touches my head as he passes me and I whip around to give him a confused look. Rick, however, doesn't look back. Just keeps walking to his destination.

Sighing, I leave Glenn to deal with the heartbreak of his car. I find a picnic bench by the RV and sit down at it. As I sit, I think. I think while staring down at my dusty sneakers. I think about whether I should stay or go. Yesterday, I was leaning more towards the go side, but today, I think I'm more in the stay. These people seem nice enough; other than the imitating Ed; and they don't seem to mind that I'm here. Besides, I might not even make it on my own. I am "only twelve " and the only weapon I have is a knife that I barely know how to use properly. A knife that is actually my mother's. I never knew why she had a knife, never asked. But now, looking back, I think she had it because of dad. To use for self defense. When she left, she left the knife. It was the only thing she left. Everything else was gone. Gone, just like her. Oh, how I miss my mom. I would give anything just to see her again. To hear her voice. To-

"Hi!"

Breaking out of my thoughts, I quickly look up from my sneakers and to the new figure sitting beside me. Carl. He has his father's eyes and they are staring right at me. What does he want?

"Hey..." I reply, dragging the word out on my tongue.

"You're new here, aren't you?" he asks. "You came back with my dad yesterday."

"Yeah," I brush my hair back. "Yeah, I'm new."

"Well, I'm Carl and-"

"I know." I say but it comes out more annoyed than I'd expected. I want to say sorry but I don't. _I don't._

"Oh..." Carl looks down for a second. He kicks a rock with his shoe before looking back up. "What's your name?"

"River," I answer, plainly. "River Parks."

"Like Rosa Parks?" Rosa Parks, the lady I learned about in school. The lady who wouldn't give up her seat on the bus.

"I guess."

He smiles. I can't remember the last time I smiled. It must be nice to be able to. "Well, I came over here to ask you if you wanted to play tag."

I raise my eyebrows. "Tag?"

"Yeah, I was gonna play with Sophia, Louis, and Eliza and they wanted-"

"Wait, who's Louis and Eliza?"

He takes his hand and points. He points to a boy and girl standing next to Sophia. Oh, they're Morales kids.

"They wanted me to ask if you wanted to join." he explains. "You looked lonely."

I sigh, look over at the other three. I haven't played tag in forever but they are my age.

_"You need to grow up."_

My dad's words repeat in my head. Tag is not for adults, I know that.

I stand up from the picnic bench, look to Carl. "C'mon, let's go."

But my dad isn't here. Is he?

Carl jumps up and practically drags me over to the other kids. "This is River." he introduces me. The others say "hi" and I notice a doll in Eliza's hand. She's too old for that, I know, but I don't say a word. She's nice and also, I used to have a stuffed lamb. I named the lamb Billy and took it with my everywhere. I got rid of it when my mom left, though. I feel like a lot of things changed when my mom left. If she never left, I might still have Billy like Eliza has that doll. I might be just like the other kids. The other kids my age.

Just then, I feel a tap on my shoulder from Carl followed by a "you're it!". Carl, Sophia, Louis, and Eliza scatter. I chase after them. I manage to tag Sophia and just when I think I might be enjoying myself for the first time in a long time, I enter a clearing. I freeze. There, right in front of me, is a dead deer. That's not all, though, that's not the whole package. Chewing on the deer, is a walker. _A walker._

Carl is behind me, then, and he freezes too. I put my hand on my knife but that's as far as I go. I want to stab it, in the head, I do. I want to but I can't. I know I can't. My hand won't move, my feet are stuck. I can't.

The rest of the kids then enter the clearing. Sophia and Eliza, well, they scream and I'm not sure if that's a good idea or not but the walker doesn't move. The others turn and run. Run towards camp. I stay put for a second and then my body unfreezes and I run after them.

"Mom!" Carl screams. "Dad!"

Sophia yells for her mom and Louis and Eliza yell for their parents. I don't yell, don't say a word. I don't have any parents. They're gone.

We run into the grownups before we reach camp. They rush by, Rick, Shane, Dale, and I think Jim. I don't catch anymore faces because there are more and they are moving fast.

"Nothing bit you?" Lori asks her son breathlessly as the rest of the people rush past. "Nothing scratched you?"

Carl says no. Lori looks to me and I just shake my head. I hear chopping sounds of weapons hitting flesh and I'm curious. My legs move back towards the clearing. Lori yells at me to come back but I ignore her. She's not my mom. I enter the clearing again and see the walker on the ground with its head detached. I stand next to Andrea and Amy.

"That's the first one we have had up here." Dale observes. "They never come this far up the mountain."

"They're running out of food in the city. That's what." Jim states. I get a bad feeling. That means they can overrun camp just like they overran my other camp.

All the sudden, the sound of twigs snapping grabs our attention. The men raise their weapons. Amy grabs my arm and pulls me back with her and Andrea. Leaves rustle, more twigs snap. The tension in the air is almost overwhelming. A man then steps through the trees, crossbow in hand. Shane sighs and everyone lowers their weapons. Relax.

I study the man. I have no idea who he is until I remember that Andrea and Dale both said last night that Merle's brother was on a hunt. This is Daryl. Oh, great...

"Son of a bitch!" he snaps, looking at the deer. Yeah, he's defiantly Merle's brother. "That's ma deer! Look at it, all gnawed on by this filthy-" He kicks the walker body. "-disease bearing-" Another kick. "-motherless-" One more kick. "-poxy bastard!" My dad used to yell words like that. They're not good words. Not at all.

"Calm down, son, that's not helping." Dale tries to calm him down but Daryl just gets in his face,

"What do you know about it, old man? You take that stupid hat and go back to 'On Golden Pond'!" He sighs, walks over to the deer and pulls out arrows that I now realize were sticking out of it this whole time. "Been trackin' this deer for miles. Was goin' to drag it back to camp and cook us up some venison." Daryl takes his hand and points to the chewed up part on the deer. "Do you think we can cut up 'round this chewed up part right here?" Shane says we can't risk it. Daryl sighs, claims it to be a shame. A damn shame.

"I got some squirrel," Daryl adds, gesturing to the dead squirrels that are on a rope perched on his shoulder. _Nice_. "'Bout a dozen or so. That'll have to do."

Just then, the severed walker head on the ground opens its eyes. It clamps its teeth together and Amy groans in disgust. Andrea grabs me and guides her sister and me back to camp.

"C'mon people, what the hell? Its gotta be the brain! Don't ya'll know nothin'?" I hear Daryl yell as we walk away. I knew that, yes, I did. I watched my dad and Payton's dad do it plenty of times. Get the freaks right in the brain.

Andrea, Amy, and me walk up to the group standing under the shade from the RV. I see Lori give me a look, probably about not listening to her. I don't care, though, she's defiantly not the boss of me last time I checked. That walker was dead anyways.

Andrea sighs. "Daryl's back." The rest of the group members pull a face and I guess no one around here is found of the Dixon brothers.

"Merle!" Daryl's voice then echoes through camp. "Merle, get ya ugly ass out here! I got us some squirrel!" He sets his crossbow down by the fire pit. "Let's stew 'em up!"

"Daryl," Shane approaches him "Slow up a bit. I need to talk to ya." Daryl stops, turns around.

"'Bout what?"

"About Merle." I gulp, knowing this is not going to go down well. Not at all. "There's a, uh, problem in Atlanta."

Daryl looks to the ground, he still has the squirrels perched on his shoulder. "He dead?"

"We're not sure."

"He either is or he ain't!" Daryl's voice starts to raise.

"No easy way to say this," A new voice, Rick's. "So I'll just say it."

"Who're you?"

"Rick Grimes."

"'Rick Grimes'?" Daryl repeats, annoyance in his tone. "You got somethin' you wanna tell me?"

"Your brother was a danger to us all so I handcuffed him to a roof, hooked him to a piece of metal. He's still there."

Daryl starts to pace, back and forth he goes. I'm happy I don't have to face the wrath of him. I am, however, a bit nervous for Rick. "Hold on, let me process this." Daryl waves his hand around his head in a circle. Like a clock ticking. "You handcuffed my brother to a roof and you left him there?!" Daryl is yelling now. Not as loud as my dad would get, no, but defiantly louder than Ed was last night.

Turning around, I slip into the RV. I feel some stares my way but I don't care. I can't handle yelling very well and that's what this group seems to do a lot. _Yell. _That, and argue and change the subject. Yeah.

I find Carl in the RV, Sophia, too. They are sitting at the window, watching the scene going on outside. The both of them greet me and that's when I hear a fight break out from outside. I rush over to the window and Carl moves over to give me room.

"Watch the knife!" I hear someone yell and I see Daryl unclasp the knife from his belt. Carl, Sophia, and me, we continue to watch from the window. Silent.

Shane grabs Daryl and puts him in a headlock. Rick takes the knife from him, throws it to the ground.

Daryl struggles in Shane's grip. "Best you let me go!"

"Nah, I think it's better if I don't." Shane tells him.

"Choke holdin' is illegal!"

"Yeah, you can file a complaint. Come on now, we can keep this up all day."

_"I don't think those rules apply anymore." _I repeat Rick's words in my head. The words he said to Andrea about the mermaid necklace. The words that don't have an exception for Daryl. The words that are _true_. They are true. There is nothing anymore. Half of the worlds population has been wiped out by something no one can explain; not even the authority; and it's just us now. _Just us._

Rick kneels down in front of Daryl, tries to reason with the man. "I'd like to have a calm discussion on this topic. Do you think we can manage that?" Daryl doesn't reply, Rick moves closer. His tone is more serious. "Do you think we can manage that?" I don't hear Daryl reply nor do I see him say a word, but Shane lets him go. Daryl falls to ground and Rick talks to him again.

"What I did was not on a whim. Your brother does not work or play well with others."

"It's not Rick's fault," Another voice. My head turns and I see T-dog standing there. I watch him take the blame that Rick was going to. "I had the key, I dropped it."

"You couldn't pick it up?" Daryl asks like this is stupid. Like it was effortless to pick up the key to free his brother. But it wasn't, it wasn't that _easy._

"I dropped it down a drain."

Daryl slouches his body, drops down to all fours. I know how he feels, in a way. Two years ago; back when I was ten; I woke up in the morning. I woke up and my mom was not there. All her things, gone. It hurt, it hurt really bad and the worse part was, she didn't even say goodbye. She just left. Left in the middle of the night. And for that, I know how Daryl feels. I know what it feels like to lose family that you care about. I want to get out of the RV, then, to go back outside. I begin to question why I even went into the RV in the first place because I should have expected Daryl to yell. I muffled my screams with pillows when my mom left; cried myself to sleep. It's a normal reaction.

Daryl stands up, swings his arm back. "If this is supposed to make me feel better, it don't."

"Maybe this will," T-dog tells him, trying to shed some light on the situation. "Look, I chained the door to the roof, so the geeks couldn't get at him. With a padlock."

"That's gotta count for somthin'." Rick adds. I move from the window, stand in the doorframe of the RV since the door is open. Daryl sniffles, wipes his eyes. But he's not crying, he's not.

"Hell with alla ya'll!" His next words are strangled. "Just tell me where he is... so I can go get 'im."

"He'll show you," Lori talks in random. She is standing in front of me, looking at her husband. "Isn't that right?"

Rick sighs. He looks around, around at all of us. He even locks eyes with me for a second before he answers.

"I'm goin' back."


	8. Chapter 7: Bruises

***I do not own The Walking dead. It belongs to its rightful owner***

* * *

Chapter 7: Bruises

Pictures. That is what I draw in the dirt with my sharp stick I broke off a tree branch._ Pictures. _I'm not an artist, no, never was. The best I can draw is stick figures which is what I'm currently doing. A dad, a mom, brother, sister, and even a dog is what I scratch into the dirt. A perfect family. At least, that's what those stickers that people would stick to their car windows would show. A big, happy family. Something I never had.

I draw smiley faces on each stick figure to finish it off. I set my stick down beside me and stare at my work for a few moments. Then, taking my sneaker, I wipe it away; all of it. What am I kidding myself? No one is happy anymore. I never really was.

"Could you just- could you throw me a bone here, man?" Shane voice comes through the camp. I look up from my destroyed drawing to see him walking up from the tents with Rick. Rick, who is wearing his police uniform once more.

"Could you just tell me _why_?" Shane questions him. "_Why_ would you risk your life for a douche bag like Merle Dixon?"

"Hey," cuts in Daryl who is at the fire pit beside them. "Choose your words more carefully."

"Oh no, I did," Shane tells the man. "Douche bag is what I meant." He turns back to Rick. His words are more quieter but I can still hear them from where I am. "Merle Dixon, guy wouldn't even give you a glass of water if you were dying of thirst."

"What he wouldn't do doesn't interest me. _I _can't let a man die of thirst, _me. _Thirst and exposure." Rick carefully explains to Shane and in that moment, I decide I like Rick better than Shane. Because a good person wouldn't let someone die from something they caused; their wrongdoing. A real, _Sheriff. _"We left him like an animal caught in a trap. That's no way for anything to die, let alone a human being."

"So, you and Daryl?" asks Lori. "That's your big plan?"

Rick turns, looks to Glenn.

Glenn groans. "Aww, c'mon..."

"You know the way. You've been there before, in and out, no problem. You said so yourself." Glenn takes off his hat and wipes his face before putting it back on. His face shows nothing but denial at Rick's proposal. "It's not fair of me to ask, I know that, but I'd feel a lot better with you along." Rick looks to his wife. "I know she would too."

"That's just great, now you're gonna risk three men, huh?" complains Shane.

"Four." adds T-dog and the list grows.

Daryl scoffs. "My day jus' gets better and better, don't it?"

"You see anybody else steppin' up to save your brother's crack-ass?"

"Why you?"

"You wouldn't begin to understand, you don't speak my language."

"That's four." states Dale.

"That's not just four," Shane says. "You're putting every single one of us at risk. Just know that, Rick. C'mon, you saw that walker, it was _here_, it was in _camp_. They're moving outta the city. If they come back, we're gonna need every able body we can get. We need 'em here, we need 'em to protect camp." Shane, well, he has a point, he does, but sometimes you have to take risks. I took a risk in trusting Rick.

"It seems to me what you need most here are more guns." Rick points out. It's true, the only gun I've seen so far is the shotgun Shane has.

"Right, guns." agrees Glenn.

"Wait, what guns?" Shane asks Rick, confused.

"Six shotguns, two high powered rifles, and over a dozen handguns." Rick lists off. "I cleaned out the cage back at the station before I left. I dropped the bag in Atlanta when I got swarmed and found River. It's just sittin' there out on the street, waiting to be picked up."

"Ammo?"

"Seven hundred rounds, sorted."

Shane looks around. He looks around at all of us like he trying to figure out what he should do from our faces. As leader, though, he should know. But he doesn't. He doesn't know like the authority didn't know how the outbreak started. No one did.

"You went through hell to find us," Lori states, speaking to Rick. "You just got here, and now, you- you're gonna turn around and leave?"

"Dad, I-I don't want you to go..." Carl pleads to his dad. I don't want Rick to go either, but I keep my mouth shut. I keep my mouth shut because sometimes taking risks can lead to good outcomes. Like me trusting Rick lead me to not being alone anymore. And even if my social skills are terrible, I still like having the company of others. To know they are _there_.

"To hell with the guns, Shane is right." Lori continues. "Merle Dixon? He's not worth one of your lives even with guns thrown in." She stands up. "Tell me, make me understand."

Rick walks over to her. "I owe a debt. To a man I met and his little boy." Lori looks at him like he crazy. "Lori, if they hadn't taken me in, I'd of died. It's because of them that I made it back to you at all." He glances at me. "That I found her." Rick explains that he was supposed to meet up with the man and his son in Atlanta. That when he dropped the bag, the walkie-talkie was in it. That it was their only form of communication. There is more said after that, I know there is, but I don't really listen. I don't because all I can think about is that Rick is glad he found me. That he still cares about what happens to me even though he found his family and has no reason to anymore.

But then again, he still has a chance.

A chance to leave me in the dust.

* * *

After the van leaves with Rick, Daryl, Glenn, and T-dog, I'm not really sure what to do. Since the last "incident" tag has been banished from camp. That's okay, though, it wasn't really fun anyways... I guess... Carl tells me I should go down to the quarry with him and Shane to catch frogs. Frogs aren't really my thing, but, I don't tell Carl that. I just say that I'll go down with him, but I'd rather do my own thing.

When Carl, Shane, and I go down the quarry, Andrea, Amy, Jacqui, and Carol are already there washing clothes. I spot Ed amongst them, leaning on a car, smoking a cigarette. I remind myself not to go near him.

Shane turns to me. "We'll be right over there." He tells me, pointing over to the side of the quarry. "If you need anything, just holler." I nod at him and turn my body to move over to a big rock; hoping that's all he has to say to me.

He doesn't, though.

"Oh, and River?"

I turn back around.

"Stay in my sights, okay?"

My eyes drift to Carl for a second and then they are back on him. "Okay."

"Alright," he pats Carl on the back. "C'mon, buddy." The two of them then turn and go to where Shane said they would be. I make my way over to the big rock I was eyeing earlier and sit on it. I check and I am still well in Shane's eyesight. Perfect. Looking over, I see Ed looking at me, cigarette still in hand. I quickly advert my gaze and look down at the water. He makes me feel uneasy and his actions remind of my dad, so I find it better not to look at the man.

I then hear splashing and Shane's shouts and I glance up to see Shane in the water. Carl has a net and is laughing as Shane splashes water towards him. I sigh to myself and pick up a stone that is on the ground beside me. It's a pitch black stone and I feel it with my fingers before I throw it into the blue water. I'm officially bored.

Just then, I hear laughter coming from the women currently washing the clothes. I watch as Ed walks up to them and starts to have a conversation. The curious side of me once again comes out and I check to she if Shane is watching. He isn't, so I get up off the rock and make my way over to the scene.

"I'll tell you what," Andrea tells Ed when I reach them. She stands up, a shirt in her grasp. "You don't like your laundry is done? You are welcome to pitch in and do it yourself. Here," She throws the shirt at him, only to get it right back at her.

"Ain't my job, missy." Ed tells her in a menacing kind of tone. I try to keep a little bit of distance from him.

Amy warns Andrea not to say anything else on the matter but Andrea presses. "What is your job, Ed? Sitting on your ass smoking cigarettes?"

"Well, it's sure not listening to some uppity, smart mouth bitch- I'll tell you what." He looks to Carol, breathes out a puff of smoke from his cigarette. "C'mon, let's go!"

"I don't think she needs to go anywhere with you, Ed." I feel like I'm watching something between my dad and I. My dad being Ed and me being Carol. Only this time, it's different. Someone is sticking up for me; the wounded one. The one who is afraid of the monster.

"Honestly, it's none of your business." He looks to Carol, again. "C'mon, you heard me!"

Andrea tries to stop Carol from going but Carol walks closer to Ed anyway, accepting it. But she shouldn't have to. I know I should do something, I know, but I don't know what. I think about what I always wanted during these situations and then I got it. _To get away. I wanted to get away._

"You c'mon now, or your going to regret it later." Ed tells Carol.

"So she can show up with fresh bruises later, Ed." Jacqui states. "Yeah, we've seen them."

"You know," I take a step closer to Ed, breaking the barrier that was keeping me from doing anything. "I wasn't notified that it was a crime to laugh."

He laughs, I smell the smoke on his breath. "Ain't that cute. A little girl trying to tell me off with what she 'thinks'."

"I don't 'think', I know."

Ed gets in my face. My mind screams at me to run; to run and hide. My gut, however, tells me to stay put. And I listen to my gut. "Your little 'cop friend' isn't here, so don't think I won't hesitate to beat your ass into the ground." Someone yells at Ed to leave me alone. I narrow my eyes at him, don't reply. Ed backs up, then, speaks to all of us. "You know, this ain't any of ya'll's business. Now, I'm done talking." He grabs Carol's arm. "C'mon!"

Andrea latches onto Carol and so do the others. They try to pull her away from Ed. I don't, though, because I'm shorter and smaller and it just wouldn't make sense. Carol mumbles something that I don't hear but Ed roars at her.

"You don't tell me what?! I don't tell you what?!"

What happens next happens fast. Ed smacks Carol across the face and I guess I moved too close because I then feel a sharp pain on my head as something hits me. My body goes flying and I'm then aware of connecting with a hard rock. My head is pounding and I look at the peaceful blue sky as I remind myself why I never stood up to my dad.

Ever.


	9. Chapter 8: Holes

**I'm on my Thanksgiving break so I have more time to update. :D**

**Here ya go.**

**Enjoy. :)**

***I do not own The Walking Dead. It belongs to its rightful owner***

* * *

Chapter 8: Holes

Voices. They start off loud, like somebody is shouting; arguing; but they get softer and then they are right next to me. I can't understand these voices, no, and I can probably blame that on me being half conscious. Half conscious and on the ground. My head is whirling, giving me the sensation of rolling down a hill. I shouldn't have stood up to Ed but then again, I should have. I did the right thing. Or did I? I can't gather my thoughts. I then feel myself being lifted off the ground before I fall into nothingness.

Or unconsciousness.

* * *

My eyes open and I find myself staring at the RV ceiling. I'm laying on the couch, my head, pounding. I don't know how I got here and don't know why my head feels like someone is beating on it either. Lifting my arm, I go to touch my head only to get stopped by a voice.

"No, honey, don't touch it. You'll just make it worse."

Jacqui. When did she get here? Her words don't make sense to me. _You'll just make it worse. _Did something happen to me? To my head?

I groan. "What-what happened?"

Jacqui looks at me sympathetically and I don't understand. _I don't. _"Don't you remember, sweetie? You got punched." Punched? What? What does she- what is she talking about?

"By Ed." she adds.

Oh.

It all makes sense now. I remember.

Jacqui grabs a bowl full with water from the table across from me. She dips a cloth in the water and starts to dab my head, right where it hurts. I hiss when it makes contact. Jacqui glances up to me for a second before continuing. God, it hurts. I been through worse, though, I can handle it.

"Shane beat him up," Jacqui talks while she works at my head, referring "him" to Ed. "We didn't think he would stop beating on him, but he did, _eventually_. After he was done with Ed, he carried you up here." She takes her finger and tilts my head to the side. I don't like being touched by people but I let her. As long as it's not about my scars. Jacqui's head shakes in disapproval of Ed's work. "It's not bleeding anymore but he left a nasty mark. Fortunately, though, you can cover that up with your hair." My hair. My long, brunette hair that is getting closer to my elbow now from not being cut. _My mother's hair_. It will cover up the mark Ed left with his fist. The mark I have yet to see.

Jacqui moves her hand away from face, dropping the cloth in the bowl full of water. She stands up and sets the bowl back on the table. Grunting, I sit up and throw my legs over the couch. My hands are now in my lap and I twirl my thumbs.

"Whenever you're ready," Jacqui's voice catches my attention and I look up at the woman. "You can come on outside. Ed is in his tent and I don't think he's coming out anytime soon."

With that, she walks out of the RV. I sigh once her footsteps fade, rub my eyes. My head is sore, yes, very, but I don't complain. I'm not going to either, I've been enough of a bother to the group today. I want to go home. I don't have a home so that is a stupid thought, but I still want to. I want my mom, I want my dad before he got messed up, and I want Payton, Payton and our friendship, and I want Billy, my lamb. I want him even though he got disposed of long ago.

I want it all.

I want it all back.

* * *

When I finally decide to leave the confinement of RV and face civilization, Carl is the first person that talks to me. He finds me at my usual place, the picnic bench beside the RV, sitting all alone; which is usual, too. He sits down next to me and starts prodding at me to begin a conversation.

"Did it- did it hurt when he punched you?"

I nod, my voice cracks when I speak. "Yeah."

"Does it still hurt?"

"Yeah."

"Pretty bad?"

"Yeah."

He drags his sneaker against the dirt. "Are you just gonna keep saying 'yeah'?"

"Yeah."

Carl sighs and I wish that he would leave me alone. That he would get up and go to talk to Sophia or Louis or Eliza because they are a lot better than me. I'm messed up, I can admit to that, he's just running in circles trying with me.

Morales chuckles cause me to look up and I spot Andrea and Amy. That's not all, though, in their hands are two huge clusters of fish. _Fish_. _Food_. My hunger comes back that I had dismissed yesterday. I can't remember when I ate last. At least, when I ate a meal like fish.

"Oh baby, would you look at that." Morales stands up and walks over to the ladies. "Hey, check it out!" He takes the fish from them. "Ladies, because of you, my children will eat tonight. Thank you."

"Thank Dale," Andrea tells him. "It's his canoeing gear."

Jacqui and Andrea high-five and then Carl stands up from the picnic bench. He stands and walks over to them, leaving me alone. Alone, like I wanted to be.

"Mom, look!" he exclaims to his mom. "Look at all the fish!" Carl pokes a fish with his finger. "Whoa..."

"Yeah, whoa," Lori adds. "Where did you two learn to do that?"

"Our dad." Amy answers. Carl asks if the two sisters can teach him how to do _that_. Amy tells him "sure" and that she can teach him all about nail knots and whatever other fishing techniques/terms that need to be taught. Amy then asks Carl's mother for permission and Lori says that they "won't catch her complaining", or something along those lines...

I've never been fishing in my whole life. Unlike Andrea and Amy's dad, my dad didn't have time. I mean, he did, but, that so called "time" was usually spent at the bar or God-only-knows where. The point is, he wasn't home; and he defiantly wasn't teaching me how to fish. He didn't _care._ But I cared about him.

"Hey, Dale!" Andrea calls at the now approaching figure of a man with a gun slung across his back. "When's the last time you oiled those line rails? They are a disgrace."

Dale doesn't answer her question and I can't help but not notice the look on his face. A look that speaks for itself. It says that he's seen something, witnessed. And it's not good. I get up off the picnic bench and inch my way closer. Dale stops in front of us, the look still plastered on his face.

"I, uh, I don't wanna alarm anyone, but, we may have a bit of a problem."

* * *

The tall grass brushes against my ankles as I walk up a hill. Besides Ed, the rest of the group that didn't go back to Atlanta is with me. We're all walking up the hill, _together._ Together, we are going to see what Dale is so worried about. When I reach the top of the hill, I find myself in a big grassy field. By now, it's late afternoon, when the sun starts to go down, and I guess it could be pretty. _Maybe. _Maybe if Jim wasn't in the middle of the field, digging holes. Big holes.

"Hey, Jim?" Shane approaches the man. Jim ignores him, though, keeps hitting the shovel into the earth in a determined fashion. Sweat has seeped through the back of his shirt and I can tell he's been at it for a while. Sweat and the fact that there is multiple holes in the earth.

"Jim, why don't you hold up, alright?" Shane tries once more. "Just give me a second here? _Please?"_

A long sigh escapes Jim's lips and then he finally stops digging. He straightens up, leans against the shovel. "What do you want?"

"Well, just a little concerned, man, that's all."

"Dale says you've been out here for hours." Morales adds.

Jim gives us a questionably look. "So?"

"So why're you diggin'?" Shane asks him.

Jim looks down, wipes his mouth.

"What, you headin' to China, Jim?" Shane is joking, I know he is. He laughs at his own words.

"Doesn't matter," Jim grins. He grins and I don't know why because he clearly isn't happy. The shovel is then back in his hands. "I'm not hurtin' anyone."

"Yeah, except maybe yourself." Dale argues as Jim starts to dig again. "It's a- it's a hundred degrees today. You can't keep this up." And I don't know how Jim kept this up for hours because I'm sweating just standing still. My clothes are starting to stick to my body as well. It's miserable outside.

"Sure I can- watch me."

"Jim," Lori speaks, taking a step towards the man, moving past Shane and Dale. "They're not gonna say it so I will. You're scarin' people."

Jim pauses, straightens again. He looks like he is starting getting aggravated, like he wants to be left alone.

"You're scarin' my son," Lori continues. "And Carol's daughter."

I glance over at Carl and Sophia. The both of them are huddled into Carol. I'm glad Lori didn't mention me. I'm glad, because I'm not scared. They're _holes_. Not a walker. I'm okay.

Jim points at Sophia and Carl, then, his breathing is ragged. He must be tired. "They've got nothin' to be scared of. I mean, what the hell, people? I'm out here by myself. Why don't ya'll just go and leave me the hell alone."

And maybe we should, but there is two sides of the coin here. I mean, Jim may not be hurting anyone, but like Dale said, he is hurting himself. We still don't even know why he is digging the holes in the first place. What is the purpose of them? Surely, they're not just for decoration. Shane is the leader, though, so the decision does come down to him. It's what he thinks is best. Best for Jim.

"We think that you need to take a break, okay?" Shane tells Jim. "Why don't you go and get yourself in the shade, some food maybe? I'll tell you what- maybe in a little bit, I'll come out here. I'll help you myself, Jim, just tell me what this is about. Why don't you just go ahead and give me that shovel."

Jim stops digging and I feel like we are going in circles with Jim digging and stopping; digging and stopping. "Or what?"

So, it's a challenge now, a dare. It shouldn't have to be, though. It's a shovel. _A shovel. _And Shane is just trying to take it for the best, for the best for Jim, and I guess I like Shane but not too much. He didn't have a good enough heart to go to Atlanta.

And that was the best for Daryl.

"There is no 'or what'. I'm _asking _you. I'm comin' to you and I'm askin' you. Please, I don't want to have to take it from you."

The shovel; right.

"If I don't, then what? Then you're gonna beat my face in like Ed Peletier, aren't you?" That, that is a whole other topic that has nothing to with this. My head starts hurting again. "Ya'll seen his face! Huh? What's _left _of it." He leans in, close to Shane. "See now, that's what happens when someone crosses you."

"That was different, Jim." Shane tells him in a low voice, serious.

Amy speaks up. "You weren't there. Ed was out of control. He hurt his wife, River..."

"That is _their _marriage!" Jim roars, I jump. He points to Shane. "Not _his_!" He then gestures to me, _great. "_He should have been worrying about his job and paying attention to little girls that like to wander off!" I gulp, look down at the ground. "He is not judge and jury!" He points to Shane again. "Who voted you 'king boss', huh?"

Shane stays calm. He doesn't get fazed by Jim's words. "Jim, I'm not here to argue with you, alright? Just give me the shovel, okay?" He takes a step towards Jim, arm outstretched. He is going to take it, to take the shovel.

Jim moves the shovel away from "No, no, no..."

"Just please? Just give me the- Jim!"

Shane must have got too close, then, because Jim pushes him away. Grasping the shovel, Jim swings it at Shane only for it to be dodged. Shane tackles him into the dirt; tackles him just like he tackled Daryl this morning.

"You got no right!" Jim yells in a very panicky kind of matter, but since he is face down, his words fall into the ground. "You got no right!"

Shane holds him to the ground, pins his arms behind his back. "Jim, just stop it," He says to the man. "Hey, hey, hey, hey! Jim? Nobody's gonna hurt you, you hear me? Shh..." Shane takes a pair of handcuffs off his belt. He handcuffs Jim's hands and I'm not really sure if it is necessary, but it's precautionary. _Precautionary_. Just in case. "Jim, nobody is going to hurt you. Okay?"

"That's a lie," More words Jim talks into the dirt and grass. "That's the biggest lie there is. I told that to my wife and my two boys. I said it a hundred times. It didn't matter..."

I look down. I know where this is going. It's going where all those people that got assassinated by the soldiers went; Payton's parents. And those people aren't around anymore.

"They came out of nowhere. There were dozens of 'em, just pulled 'em right out of my hand..."

Just like that. Just like that, they were, _gone_. Pulled away by something that he, Jim, couldn't control. Like my mom was pulled away from me by my dad. Something I couldn't control either.

"You know," he murmurs. "The only reason I got away was 'cause the dead were too busy eatin' my family."

And maybe that's why Jim digs these holes. These holes that I now realize look like graves.

He digs them for closure.

Closure for his family that he couldn't save.

There could be another reason, though, a more "in depth" reason.

But what do I know, after all?

I am just a little girl.

A little girl that likes to wander off.


	10. Chapter 9: Tough As Nails

***I do not own The Walking Dead. It belongs to its rightful owner.***

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Chapter 9: Tough As Nails

Lori, Carol, Sophia, Carl, and I, we are at a table by the tents, sitting on some crates and buckets. The two other kids and me are working on math textbooks. At least, Carl and Sophia are. I, however, am just scribbling; acting like I'm working whenever Lori or Carol glances at my paper. I felt like screaming when Lori had pulled these stupid books out of the RV; claiming that Glenn brought them back from a recent run. I'm terrible at math. Back when the world was still normal and dead people weren't walking around, I had to take special math tutoring classes during school because I was so bad. I _hated _it.

Lori glances to my paper and my pencil goes from scribbling loopy lines to scratching out the number ninety-six. Looking down at my textbook, the first problem instructs me to divide fifteen by three. Screw. That. Dividing was the worst for me. They made us do all these weird steps to solve one problem and it confused me to no end. I am _not _doing that today.

Footsteps catch my ears, then, and I look up from my scribbly paper and confusing textbook. Jim is still there, yep, still tied to the tree across the way. Shane and Dale come into view and I realize they were the reason for the footsteps. My eyes quickly move back over to Jim, and once when I realize he's not looking, I leave them there. It's not polite to stare, I know that, but I still don't look away. Jim is another reason I haven't been able to complete any math problems besides the fact I hate math in general. He is right across from me and I couldn't help myself not to look. He's a mystery, a puzzle. And I still want to know why he dug those holes.

Shane gives him water, Dale just stands there, looking upon them. Lori then taps my paper and the spell is broken. _Get back to work_. That's what her eyes say and I sigh. I tuck some hair behind my ear on the good side of my head, the side Ed didn't leave his artwork on, and then I begin. Fifteen divided by three is-

"Sorry if I scared your boy," I hear Jim's voice. "And your little girl."

This time, everyone looks up at the red-faced, tired man. Lori answers the question because she is more talkative than Carol. I can understand that, too, since I've experienced what Ed can do first hand.

"You had sunstroke, nobody's blamin' you."

"You're not scared, now, are you?" I don't know who Jim is talking to. If he's talking to Carl or Sophia or me. But I guess it doesn't matter, though, because Sophia swoops in and answers.

"No, sir."

Jim looks at me, straight in the eye. "What about you, River? Didn't scare you off to bad, did I?" I know his questions has more meaning than the fact he dug the holes. His talking about Ed, how he said that I'm "just a little girl" and that I like to "wander off". Jim, well, Jim is okay, and I don't want to make the situation worse so I simply just shake my head no.

"No. Not at all."

Lori and Carol want us to get back to work. I know they do by the look on both of their faces. I can't, though, I can't go back to working on stupid problems that I don't understand. Stupid problems that don't even matter anyways because the world ended. _I can't concentrate._

So, I keep my eyes trained on Jim and he looks to Carl the same way he looked at Sophia and I. "Your momma's right, sun just cooked my head is all."

Lori gets me back to my math, then, and I'm starting to get annoyed. I give up on trying to do the problems the book tells me to and instead scribble down numbers beside the ninety-six I had wrote earlier. Jim and Dale are talking now. Their voices are too low for me to understand but I do catch Jim say that he had a dream, or something like that.

"Your dad was in it," His voice is loud again, speaking to Carl. "You were, too, you all were. You were worried about your dad. Can't remember the rest..." I still don't get it, though. I still don't understand. A dream is a dream. It's not _real._ I mean, I have nightmares too but once when I wake up, I know that whatever I had just dreamt up was false and that it's okay. At least, it's okay for a little bit before something else happens, but that's not the point. The point is, why would a simple dream; a false reality; make someone dig holes? It just doesn't add up.

Jim goes on. "You worried about your dad?"

Rick. I haven't really thought of him this entire time. I don't really think that was worried about him, either. He's out there with three other good fighters. They know how to hold their own.

Carl shakes his head at Jim's question the same way I did when he asked me if I was scared. His voice sounds different when he speaks to the man and it's just... _weird._ "They're not back yet."

Lori rubs his back, looks to Jim. "We don't need to talk about that."

Jim ignores her, though, keeps talking. "Your dad's a police officer, son," he says to Carl. "He helps people. Probably just came across some folks needin' help, that's all."

Like when Rick came across me in Atlanta. An alone, scared, twelve-year-old girl. _Me. _He could have left me out there, he could have been like George. But he _wasn't_. He wasn't George, he wasn't my dad, and he wasn't a solider. He was _Rick. Rick Grimes._ Rick, who saved me. Rick, who I trust. Rick, who has a family that isn't dysfunctional like mine was. And Rick, the man who is out there now. Out there in Atlanta.

"That man, he's tough as nails. I don't know him well, but... I could see it in him." His eyes move up to Shane. "Am I right?"

"Oh, yeah," Shane answers in a big huff.

"There ain't nothin' gonna stop him from getting back to you or your mom, I promise you that."

Jim stops speaking after that. It gets quiet, back to how it used to be. Clutching my pencil in my hand, I look back down at my paper and textbook. My head chooses that moment to start hurting again and I scrunch my face up. I have been trying not to think about my head because if you think about it, it goes back to hurting. Man, does it hurt-

Shane then picks up a bucket and asks who wants to help with the fish, the fish Andrea and Amy caught today. Carl is the first one to spring up and out of his seat. He calls to Sophia and me and the pencil that was once in my hand falls down to the paper filled with scribbles and random numbers. I stand up and run after Sophia and Carl. We race up the hill, then, and after Shane. I'm in the lead and a childish like giggle escapes my lips before I can even stop it.

And suddenly, my head doesn't hurt anymore.


	11. Chapter 10: Heartbreak Warfare

**Okay, I am so sorry that the last chapter kinda got messed up. What happened was my computer glitched and accidently posted my rough draft instead of my final copy, and in my rough draft, it doesn't always make sense. I'll have all of you know, though, that I did post my final copy, so, hopefully it will now make more sense.**

**If it doesn't, I'm sorry...**

***I do not own The Walking Dead. It belongs to its rightful owner.***

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Chapter 10: Heartbreak Warfare

When darkness falls, the fish fry starts. We all sit around the fire pit, except for Ed of course, and I lose myself in the laughter, talking, and the good food. As much as I don't want to, I force myself to slowly nibble on the fish, pacing myself. I haven't ate anything in quite a while and I know if I eat something fast, I will get sick. It happened once at my old camp, thus, resulting in me being bent over and throwing up in the grass while Payton's mom held my hair. I swear, I tasted vomit in my mouth for a whole week after that. It was terrible.

"I gotta ask you, man," Morales voice turns my attention towards him as I put a little piece of fish into my mouth. He's talking to Dale. "It's been driving me crazy."

Dale smiles from his place in his chair. "What?"

"That watch," he points to the watch on Dale's wrist.

"What's wrong with my watch?"

"I see you, everyday, same time, winding that thing like a village priest saying mass." Andrea nods in agreement, Lori smiles, laughs. I have only been here a day so I haven't noticed the watch, but the conversation still keeps my attention.

"I've wondered this myself." Jacqui adds in, laughing along with Lori.

Dale holds his hands out, the smile is still plastered on his face. "I'm missing the point."

Carl is next to me and he bumps my shoulder. I look at him questionably and he smiles. W_eird kid. _Then, I turn my head away from him, shaking it in the process. I feel a smile creeping unto my lips. Plopping some more fish into my mouth, I chew on the contents slowly.

"Unless I've misread the signs," Jacqui continues. "The world seems to have come to an end. At least, hit a speed bump for a good long while."

"But there's you," Morales says to Dale. "Everyday, winding that stupid watch."

"Time," Dale explains his reasoning for the watch winding. "It's important to keep track, isn't it? The days, at least." He gestures to Andrea, asking her what she thinks about the mater. Andrea just scoffs, though, takes a sip of her bottle. Dale turns back to us. "I like- I like what, um, father said to son when he gave him a watch that had been handed down through generations. He said, 'I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire, which will fit your individual needs no better than it did mine, or my fathers before me. I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you may forget it for a moment, now and then, and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it.'"

It gets quiet, then. My fish on my plate sits still on my lap. Morales grins at Dale, nodding his head in understandment. I don't really understand it, though. Not much, anyhow. I don't know who father is; much less son; but I hope that son was older than me when father gave it to him. I hope he is because I sure don't understand this or time. Time is time, it's all a meaning of time before we all die. Right? No, River, no, you shouldn't be thinking like that. You should be thinking about happy things like-

"You are so weird." Amy's voice breaks the silence. Everyone chuckles, yes, even me, because it's true. I don't understand what Dale was talking about and it is, how Amy put it, "weird". Weird and funny. Dale says that the words aren't his, they're somebody else's that goes by the name Faulkner. The laughs continue and then they die off and it goes back to normal.

Amy stands up, then, Andrea asks her where she is going.

"I have to pee," Amy says. "Geez, you try to be discreet around here..." She walks off to the RV and more laughs fill the air, mine included.

My fish is almost gone, now, and I take a sip of my water I have sitting beside me. I look around at everyone and realize something. _I think I can stay here._ I think I can stay here, with these people, and we can all live together. I could stay away from Ed, and Carl, well, I suppose I could try and be his friend. Heck, I can even try to be friends with Sophia, Louis, and Eliza, too. I won't tell Eliza that she is too old for that doll either. I could do this and maybe my dad will fade away from my memory like the cuts on my arms faded into scars. _Maybe._

I hear the door to the RV bang open, then, and Amy's voice comes through.

"We're out of toilet paper?"

I turn and see Amy at the RV. Her arm is holding the door open and she is looking at us.

A man walks up to her, wait, that's not a man, and it sinks her teeth into her arm. Amy screams and it goes throughout all of the camp, like an alarm. It does, and now I'm standing, and everyone else is too.

"Mom!"

That's Carl's voice and he's right next to me, and his mom, well, she calls his name back and then she's here. _Here. _Right in front of me. Everyone is running around and then there is walkers; walkers everywhere. Where are they coming from? I don't know. The woods, maybe? But, they are coming towards us and everywhere I turn, there they are. Looking for their next meal.

"Lori, get him down!" Shane yells. He has his shotgun and then he pumps it, aims.

Gunshots ring through the air, and it's one after another and after another. People are screaming. It's exactly like when my other camp got attacked and I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do like I didn't the first time_._

And I wish I did.

"Follow me!" I hear Shane's voice. I turn but Lori, Carl, and Shane aren't there anymore. What? Weren't they- weren't they just right here? Next to me?

"C'mon ya'll!" Shane again. "Work your way up here!" I see him, then. I see all of them. They are up by the RV and of course they are. The RV, it's safe. At least, think it is.

"Get to the RV!"

I go to move my legs over to RV but I'm stopped when something grabs my arm. My first reaction is to scream; which I do; and I whip my head around to see a walker latched onto my arm. Screaming once again, I push its head back with my other arm before it can bite me. The walker is a man, or what's left of a man, and it is strong. Its strength ends up being too much for me and it pushes me down to the hard earth, the air leaves my lungs. Struggling to breathe, I hold the walkers mouth away from me with my arms.

_My knife. I got to get to my knife._

I keep repeating those words through my head as I go from having two arms holding the walker off of me to one. Taking my now free arm, I move it down to my belt, down to my knife in its holder on my hip. The walker's strength is almost overpowering, however, and my grip is starting to slip. I scream as the walker starts to get closer to me and my hand struggles to get my knife.

It's too far away.

I can't get it.

I'm going to die.

The walker is now almost about to bite me and I'm contemplating on just letting go. It would be quicker. But, I don't know... Honestly, I don't want to die; I'm not ready. I'm terrified, oh, so terrified, but sometimes these things have to happen.

All the sudden, a gunshot echoes through the air and the once fully alive walker, falls limply on top of me. This time, it is dead for good. I lay on the ground, stunned. I can't move. My heart is pounding.

The dead body is then yanked off of me and Daryl's face appears before my eyes. He helps me up and that's when I realize that he did it.

He saved me.

And that must mean that they're back.

"Are you alright?" he then asks, looking down at me.

"Yeah..." I reply, breathlessly. "Yeah, I'm okay." _Okay_ as in physically, no bites or anything, but mentally, probably not.

Daryl nods. I expect him to move away, then, to see about anybody else.

But he doesn't.

He stays right where he is, with me.

I look at the rest of the group, the one's that survived and aren't the bodies littering the ground. They are all hugging their families, sobbing in each others arms. And then there's me, no family, not sobbing, and standing next to Daryl Dixon. Daryl Dixon, the man who just saved my life.

"Amy! Amy!"

It sounds like a wounded animal, those strangled cries that Andrea is making as she shakes her sister's dead body.

"I remember my dream now," Jim says, then, causing me to look at him. "Why I dug the holes."

It takes me a moment to make sense of Jim's words, but when I do, I feel like crying.

Crying, like the other group members.

Crying, like Andrea as she screams her sister's name in desperation; wanting her to come back.

Yeah. Crying would be a good thing to do right about now.

* * *

**Hope you guys liked the chapter! Also, don't forget to review because as much as I love hearing from klondike24680, I want to hear from the rest of you! Btw, thank you so much klondike24680. Your reviews brighten my day. :)**


	12. Chapter 11: Don't Kill the Living

**I went back and revised all of my old chapters so hopefully there is no more spelling errors. There might still be, though, but sorry, I'm not Superman. :P**

**Also, about the latest comment on this book (don't know if you read it or not) none of it is true. There is no ebooks called "Joel and His Cat" and that was no "professional writer's" comment. That was actually one of my best friend's that reads this fanfic and she even told me she was going to do it. The whole cat thing is an inside joke between us and it is just hilarious. I died of laughter when I read the comment (yes, that means that I am now a walker). XD**

**You gotta love her though. :D **

***I do not own The Walking Dead. It belongs to its rightful owner.***

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Chapter 11: Don't Kill the Living

I don't sleep that night.

Not much, anyhow.

"Stay in the RV." That's what the voices tell me. Not the voices inside my head, no, not those stupid voices that seem to lead me to bad things, but the group's voices. _People._ Living, breathing people's voices tell all the kids to get in the RV and stay there. I _am_ a kid, so I don't fight it. I don't let me tell myself I have to grow up anymore because it's not going to happen. I couldn't even kill a walker. _A walker._ I let my legs carry me to the confinement of the RV, head hung low as I walk by the other four kids holding their families close to them. I don't have any family, so you know, whatever...

I sit down in the same place I woke up in earlier today after Ed had punched me. Pulling my knees to my chest, I rest my head on the window; stare out into the darkness. The nothingness. I stare and think about how stupid I am and was for thinking everything could be okay. Because it never will be. That's okay, though, because it never was okay for me before this thing, so I can get used to it again.

Just like old times, right?

Carl, Sophia, Eliza, and Louis join me in the RV probably a good fifteen minutes after I took my place. They go to the beds in the back room; probably because they can fall asleep without having dreams about their dad murdering men named George; and their heavy breathing fills the air shortly after.

Carl surprises me when he emerges from the room with the beds. He rubs his eyes and I know he's tired, but he still asks me the question he got up for.

"Are you coming to bed?"

"No."

And why would I, anyway? I'm fine and comfortable right where I am; staring out a window into nothingness. I don't need to be with people and I expect Carl to keep prodding me like he always does until I finally give in, but he doesn't. Turning on his heel, he walks right back into the room where the heavy breathing is coming from.

I continue to look out the window, and eventually, I do end up falling asleep.

And I sleep until I'm awoken later by the things that usually haunt my dreams.

* * *

Morning comes and I'm surprised that it still does in a cruel world like the one we live in. The five of us still stay in the RV because no one told us to come out, but that doesn't stop the urge I get to go outside anyway. I hear the sound of something coming down hard into something softer and I know what it is right away. The bodies, the people who got bit and died. Group members are stabbing them in the head so they won't come back. And when I look out the window and see Daryl with a pickaxe, I know I was right.

The sounds from outside continue and Sophia and Eliza cringe every once in awhile, but I don't. I don't because I has to be done and there is no other way around it. It is what it is.

"Ya'll can't be serious." Daryl's voice comes through, then, and I know it's his even though he is outside because I am _listening_. Just listening.

"Let that girl hamstring us?" he goes on, "The dead girl's a time bomb."

Amy. She has yet to turn and she still is laying where she was when she died, Andrea looming over her. I know she still is because Andrea would not let _anything_ happen to her sister. Heck, she won't even let anyone near her ticking "time bomb" -as Daryl put it- of a sister.

"What do you suggest?" I hear Rick ask, continuing the discussion.

"Take the shot," Daryl tells him. "Clean, in the brain. From here. Hell, I can hit a turkey between the eyes from this distance."

"No," interjects Lori and I know she says more, I do, but it is too quiet, so muffled words is all I hear.

I turn my head away and stop listening to whatever is currently taking place outside. Carl, Sophia, Louis, and Eliza, we just sit in a little group on the seats. We don't talk, no, we just sit. Carl is next to me but the other three are squished together on the other seat. I try and study their faces; to see what they're thinking and all; but I come up with nothing. My eyes then go down to my scars and I trace them with my finger. I've done this so many times before that I know how each one goes. It's like when you do the same puzzle over so much, that you know how to solve it exactly right. Yeah, it's like that.

"How did you..." Carl starts to speak but then his voiced kind of fades away. I pause my tracing and look to him. _How did I what?_ He points to his arm. "How did you get all those... all those _scars_?"

My scars. He wants to know how I got my scars. I can't tell him, though. _I won't._ I didn't tell Andrea even though I think she knew anyway. I think they all knew, the adults. I think they did but they just didn't say anything. Carl, though, and Eliza, Sophia, and Louis, they wouldn't know. They probably thought that I just fell off my bike or something because that's what I would think too if I was them. But now, they don't think I fell off my bike anymore; at least Carl doesn't; and they want to know the truth. How? How did I get my scars?

All their eyes are on me. I swallow, open my mouth. _Talk_. "It, uh, it doesn't really matter anymore."

"Did you get them the same way my mommy got hers?" Sophia asks and I feel like running straight out of the RV. I do because she is exactly right. I got my scars from someone else who was family and was supposed to care about me. And I think I knew he didn't care the second he picked up the beer bottle the day after mom left. I think I knew but I just couldn't_ accept_ it. I couldn't accept it because all I ever wanted to be was like the other kids. Normal.

I know I have to answer Sophia's question, though, even if I don't really want to. I know I do and I go to, but then Glenn's voice comes through and I'm saved.

"We don't burn them!"

His voice is strangled, desperate almost. Burn what? The bodies, probably. He keeps talking and I strain my ears to listen to his lowered voice.

"We bury them. Understand? Our people go in that row over there."

I get up, then, and Carl moves out of my way. I move over to the window to see Daryl and Louis and Eliza's dad dragging a dead man's body that I didn't even bother to learn the name of. The others join me at the window. _Watch._

Daryl looks aggravated, he yells. "Reap what you sow!"

Morales tells him to shut up. Daryl drops the body.

"Ya'll left my brother for dead!" He walks into the middle of the camp, points around at the dead bodies; the fire; _everything_. "You had this comin'!"

And that means that they didn't find Merle. That he's _dead._ I never really thought about Merle until now. I guess throughout all the struggle and chaos from last night, I just forgot about him entirely. I forgot that the motive was to get him in the first place. But he's not here, and Daryl's upset, and there is dead bodies everywhere outside, and I don't even know what to do anymore inside this little RV.

Maybe we did have this coming.

* * *

Jim's bit. I don't believe it at first when Jacqui announces it and grabs everyone's attention. _I don't._ But when T-dog grabs Jim and Daryl lifts his shirt to reveal a bite mark on his chest, I know it is true. I know that Jacqui wasn't kidding.

And I know that we are going to lose another one by the end of the day.

Shane sits Jim down by the RV and then all the adults gather around in the middle of camp, have a meeting. Their voices are too low to hear so I move away from the window, only to return later when the conversation gets loud and heated.

"You go lookin' for aspirin, do what you need to do," Daryl speaks, pickaxe in hand. He then turns and starts charging towards Jim, pickaxe now raised. "Someone needs to have some balls to take care of this damn problem!"

There is more shouting and then Rick points a gun at Daryl's head before Daryl can take care of the "problem". Sophia and Eliza gasp. I stay silent.

"We _don't _kill the living." Rick tells him, serious.

Daryl drops the pickaxe. "That's funny comin' from a man who just put a gun to my head."

And it is, isn't it?

But Jim's not a walker.

_Yet_.

* * *

I'm tired of being in the RV. I actually have been for awhile, but the sense to get out is almost overwhelming now. My brain keeps nagging me, telling me to go outside and I find myself inching closer to the exit by the minute. Eventually, I'm at the door and that's when Carl asks.

"Where are you going?"

I turn to him, he's staring at me. Sophia joins him, too, and then all eyes are on me. I could lie. I could say I'm hungry, but that is a stupid excuse. A _terrible_ one. We are always hungry and it's not like I can just go grab a snack...

"Out," I say, locking eyes with him. I turn to leave.

"But we're not supposed to leave the RV!"

"Don't care," Skipping down the stairs, I walk outside and into the heat and sunshine.

No one says anything to me. I don't even think they know I'm out of the RV. I spot Daryl over by the bodies, pickaxe still in his grasp.

Might as well thank him for last night, right?

When I reach him, he slams the tip of the pickaxe into a dead body's head. He's sweating, breathing hard. His muscles flex as he yanks the pickaxe out and he looks to me, squints.

"Thought the whole purpose of keepin' you in the RV was so you didn't have to see this."

I sigh, sit down on an overturned tire positioned on the ground. "It don't bother me."

He grunts, brings the pickaxe down on another head. "That so?"

"Yeah," My eyes move across the bodies, examining them. I've seen these people before around camp, I know I have, but I never talked to them or anything. Didn't even know their names... My eyes keep going and then they freeze on the body closest to me. The body may be chewed on, but I still know who it is.

Ed.

The throbbing in my head comes back, then, I'm glad that Ed is dead. He's one of those people in this world that didn't even deserve to make it this far. My head continues to throb and I go to touch the spot, only to hiss in pain when contact is made.

Daryl pauses. He looks to me. "You alright?"

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, letting the wave of pain pass. "Yeah... Yeah, I'm fine."

He straightens, rests the pickaxe on is shoulder. "You sure?"

I press my lips together. "Mmmhmm..."

"No you're not," Setting the pickaxe down, he takes a step towards me. "C'mon, let me see-"

"No!" I shout at him. "Please, Daryl-"

"Jesus, kid, I'm not gonna hurt ya. Just want to see what is wrong is all."

I swallow, give in. "Fine." Taking my hand, I move some of my brunette hair out of the way, revealing whatever kind of mark Ed left on my face.

"Son of a bitch..." Daryl breathes, studying my head. "Who did this?"

"Doesn't matter-"

"Yes, it does."

"Ed." I finally say, ending the conversation. Daryl moves away from me, then, gets the pickaxe back in his grasp. I hear him mutter "bastard" before he goes back to what he was doing. Standing up, my feet move forward and I walk away from him.

My legs, my good legs, they keep moving in their swift movement that they always do. They keep moving and they don't stop until I reach the RV. Stomping up the stairs, I enter the vehicle and I feel eyes on me. I ignore them, though, keep going. I keep going until I reach my seat and I plop down in it; rest my head on the dirty window.

I knew I should have just stayed inside.

* * *

An hour passes. At least, I think it's an hour but who knows? Who even has a watch? Dale does. But I _don't. _One whole hour passes before the gunshot is heard. I know what it is right away, but that still doesn't stop me from rushing back to the window.

Amy turned. Andrea ended it.

Andrea holds her sister's head and she cries.

She cries because she now knows her sister is truly _dead_.

And she's not coming back anymore

* * *

The tall grass once again tickles my ankles as I walk up the same hill that we found Jim digging the holes... or graves. It doesn't matter anymore, I guess, because Rick and Shane finished the graves and Jim's bit. I walk past Daryl's truck. Glancing in the open tailgate, I spot the bodies of the ones we lost, all wrapped up in the back.

I hear the tail end of Rick, Daryl, and Shane's conversation. "-he got her pretty good-" I hear Daryl say to the other two. I bite my lip because I know he is talking about me; Daryl is. "These people need to know who the hell's in charge here, what the rules are."

"There are no rules." Rick tells him.

"Well, that's a problem." Lori chimes in because we are now at the top of the hill. "We haven't had one minute to hold onto anything of our old selves. We need time to mourn and we need to bury our dead. It's what people do."

* * *

We bury them. All of them. We stand around the graves and no one says anything. When it's Amy's turn; and she's the last to go; Andrea gets her body. When Dale tries to help her like he helped everybody else, she says "no", tells him that she can "do it". She lowers her dead sister's wrapped up body into the grave. Andrea is crying, yes, she is, and I watch as the tears stream down her face. I don't cry, though. I mean, it's sad and Amy was nice, but I didn't really _know _her. I didn't _know_ anybody. Still don't.

Dale helps Andrea out of the grave. The holes are then covered and that is that.

It's over.

* * *

**A plot twist happened in this chapter. Don't know if you noticed it, but it happened. ;)**

**Thanks for the comments :P**


	13. Chapter 12: Moving On

**School was canceled because of snow today, so, why not write?**

***I do not own The Walking Dead. It belongs to its rightful owner.***

* * *

Chapter 12: Moving On

CDC or Fort Benning. Those are the two choices we are faced with. Rick says CDC, Shane says Fort Benning. I don't know which one is exactly better than the other. Fort Benning is one hundred miles in "hostile territory", which is what Rick called it, and the CDC, is in Atlanta. And we all know that Atlanta was a bust. Either way, we're not staying here. We _can't._ Not after what happened last night...

Shane and Rick are on patrol. I'm at the fire pit with the rest of the group -minus Jim who is in the RV because he's bit- and I'm waiting for the return of the two. Dale went to search for them a couple minutes ago. He took a rifle with him, claiming he'd be "right back". He still has yet to return, though, so here I am, sitting next to a boy and girl with the names Carl and Sophia; _waiting._

Waiting to see what the future holds.

Lori has her knife and she is sharpening it on a stick. She has been for awhile actually, and now, the stick is starting to wear away. _Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. _That's the sound the blade makes when it connects with the hard bark. _Scrape. Scrape. Scrape._

Dale appears from the woods, then, Shane and Rick trudging behind him, guns in their hands. Lori stops her sharpening and I look at the men. They approach the fire pit and Shane is the first to speak.

"I've, uh," Shane squats down, Rick does, too. I lean forward in my seat so I can catch Shane's words better. I'm _engaged_. That's what my English teacher would say anyway. And then, you would get a sticker for using such good grammar. But that was _then _and this is _now_ and there aren't any stickers laying around.

Shane continues, "I've been thinking about Rick's plan."

The CDC? Is that what has been decided?

"Now look, there are no- no _guarantees_. Either way, I'll be the first to admit that." He glances up, up at Rick. "I've known this man a long time. I trust his instincts. I say the most important thing here is we need to stay together." Together. As in; not alone. I can do that. "So those of you that agree, we leave first thing in the morning. Okay?"

Nobody talks.

Nobody objects.

There is just a stiff silence that passes through and then everyone starts to get up. I get up, too, and then we all slug our way back to our tents. Back to our tents; so we can gather whatever belongings that we still have.

Because, what else are we supposed to do?

* * *

That night, Glenn and I lay in silence inside the tent we share. I can't sleep and I know he can't either because he keeps tossing and turning. That; and because there is yet to be heavy breathing filling the air from him. As I lay all snuggled into my sleeping bag, I get the sudden urge to talk to him. To talk to him and see what's up; what's_ bothering_ him. Besides, I already know what keeps me up at night...

I roll over so I'm facing his way. "Glenn?"

I hear the cot that he is laying on squeak as he shifts his body. His voice sounds tired when he speaks; strained in a way. "Yeah?"

I lick my chapped lips that I can't help because I don't have any chapstick. "Are you- are you okay, Glenn?"

He sighs. It's dark in the tent but I can still make out his hand going to his face as he rubs his eyes. "I'm okay, just, just trying to regain my thoughts, you know?"

And I do know. I do it all the time, try to regain my thoughts. And sometimes- sometimes it's hard because there are some things you have seen that just won't leave your head. No matter how bad you want them to.

"Yeah, I know..."

"You have trouble sleeping, too, don't you?"

"Nightmares," I tell him, my voice in a low whisper. "Mostly about my dad, though."

"You miss him?"

"No," I shake my head, even though I know that it is useless because he can't see me in the darkness. I feel like chuckling at his question, but, I hold it in. "No, not at all. He wasn't- wasn't the _nicest_ person." Glenn is quiet and I'm sure he is listening, so I continue. "My mom, though, I miss her... But she left long before this thing even started, so, I'm used to missing her."

"Did she-"

"_No_." I cut Glenn off before he can even finish. I do, because I know what he's thinking. _Dead_. And my mom's not _dead_. I mean, she might be now, but she wasn't then. She was just _scared_. Scared of dad. "She just literally... _left_. In the middle of the night...; packed her bags." I feel tears start to stream down my face, then, but I don't wipe them away. My voice cracks. "Didn't even say goodbye."

"I'm sorry." And I can tell by his tone of voice that he truly means it.

But I'm done talking.

I roll back over, wipe my nose that is starting to run. "Yeah, me too." _Me too._

* * *

"Alright, everybody listen up," Shane says the next morning. I look up at the man, my backpack is slung across my shoulder since I packed it earlier. I look up at him and _listen_. Listen; just like he said. "Those of you with CBs, we're gonna be on channel 40, but let's keep the chatter down, okay?"

I chew on the inside of cheek, observe that the other kids look tired being up this early. I'm fine, though, I'm an early riser. And from the stories my mom used to tell me, I was even one when I was a baby; waking her up at wee hours in the morning. Shane continues his speech and my eyes move away from them, back to him.

"Now, you got a problem, don't have a CB, can't get a signal or anything at all, you're gonna hit your horn one time. That'll stop the caravan. Any questions?"

"We're, uh.." begins Morales and he sounds nervous. I don't know why, though, because what's there to be nervous about?

But then he drops the ball and I realize why he was so nervous.

"We're not going."

Rick and Shane are shocked. They gape at Morales's family, look at them like they are crazy. Everyone is shocked as well, and yes, even I am. Are they seriously going to go out _there_? Alone?

I see Eliza tuck her head into her mother's chest. She's clutching that doll she always has and her mother -who I don't know the name of- calmly explains her family's situation.

"We have family in Birmingham," she says. "We want to be with our people."

Birmingham. That's Alabama, right? Yes, it is, we learned about it in school when we did that state unit. I don't know where Birmingham is exactly, though, but I know it's far; farther than the CDC.

And Shane, well, Shane tries to convince them to reconsider in his "leader" kind of voice. "You go on your own, you won't have anyone to watch your back."

"We'll take the chance," Morales tells him, certain. "I've gotta do what's best for _my_ family."

Right; because Morales cares. He cares about his wife and his kids and any other family still out there. That's good, of course it is, but does he really want to do it? To take his kids away from the group when he's the only one, out of the four, who knows how to shoot a gun? And that's the question that Rick asks him. Sure, he may not word it the same, but he still asks it.

Morales says that he's sure, that he and his wife talked it over.

"Alright," breathes Rick and just by the way he says it, I know he isn't entirely aboard this idea either. But, it isn't really his decision, so, he bends down with Shane and they start going through the gun bag. Some muttering is heard and then Rick pulls out a handgun; Shane has a box of bullets. Both of which, are handed to Morales.

"Box is half full," Shane informs him. Daryl then makes a spitting noise from beside me. I quirk an eyebrow and watch him as he takes a few steps away, only to come right back.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lori jump off of Carol's Cherokee that her and Carl were sitting on. I turn my head and look at Carl. His eyes are glassy looking and I take note that he's crying. _Again._ I don't blame him; not entirely anyhow. They may be his friends, but, they are not my "best friends". My best friend was already taken from me.

And _nobody_ will take her place.

"Thank you all... For everything." Morales wife says and Lori goes up to her, gives her a hug. She then goes to Eliza and Louis, gives them each a kiss on the head. Shane and Rick shake Morales's hand and then I watch Eliza run up to Sophia. They share a teary hug and then Eliza gives Sophia that doll that they both are too old for. She does; and much to my dismay; she meets my eye. Her brother does, too, and an awkward moment passes before I just nod at the two. Like grownups do. They do the same and then back to their mom and dad they go. Just like that.

"Channel 40," Rick reminds Morales. "If you change your minds."

Footsteps walk away, more words are exchanged, and then Shane shouts.

"Let's move! Let's move out!"

Everyone moves at once. Dale, Glenn, and Jacqui get into the RV with infected Jim. Rick, Lori, Carol, Sophia, and Carl get into Carol's Cherokee. Daryl gets in his truck. And Shane gets in his jeep. All that is left is T-dog, Andrea, T-dog's church van, and I.

T-dog looks to Andrea and me. "C'mon, you two can ride with me."

Clutching my backpack strap, I mutter some sort of "thanks" to T-dog before I slip into the back of the van. Andrea follows, getting in the passenger side, and then T-dog himself enters the vehicle. Engines start and then all the cars get in line. Turning around in my seat, I look out of the dirty back windshield; back at the camp. My eyes move and they land on the red muscle car. They keep moving and then I spot the note that Rick taped to it just as T-dog gives the van gas and it jolts forward. The note is for the man and boy that saved Rick's life, to tell them the quarry isn't safe. The car keeps moving and then the note and red muscle car disappear out of sight.

I turn back around in my seat, sigh.

So, I guess that's all we left at the used-to-be camp...

An undrivable muscle car and a note that will probably never get to who it was wrote out to.


	14. Chapter 13: Reality

***I do not own The Walking Dead. It belongs to its rightful owner.***

* * *

Chapter 13: Reality

Nobody says a word in T-dog's church van. The only sounds that are heard is the hum of the engine and the wind whipping into the vehicle from the open windows.

And that's fine by me.

I mean, what are we supposed to talk about; T-dog, Andrea, and me? About how Andrea's sister died last night? How Jim is going to die? That the CDC could just be a waste of time? No- no we can't. We can't talk about_ that_. I know that and I think the other two know it as well.

And that is why we sit in silence.

I move closer to the open window next to me, letting my hair fly back in the wind. It may be a warm gust of air hitting me, but it's better than no gust at all and sitting still in this stuffy van. I move closer, hang my head out the window. I gaze out into what's left of the world. There's trees, lots of trees; standing tall in their own shade of green. The trees then go away and we pass fields. Big, open fields. They are empty, of course, and they then fade away like the trees as we pass abandoned houses much like the ones I saw when I was all alone.

The pounding on my head from the wind gets too much for me, then, and I tuck my head back inside the van. T-dog glances back at me; I see him do it; and then he glances over at Andrea. I don't know if he's doing it to see if we are still here or what, but his eyes then move back to the road and it goes back to how it was.

Back to three people sitting in a stuffy van, not daring to see a word.

Afraid that if they do say a word -or words-, It'll be the wrong ones.

* * *

I stare at Dale's RV as it makes this terrible hissing noise. Smoke is coming out of the engine and the hissing noise sounds like when you stick something on a grill. It's almost as if it is mocking us, this RV. Laughing at as because we are now being held captive in this God awful heat.

"I told you we'd never get far on that hose," Dale tells Rick as they examine the engine. He means "hose" as in radiator hose, so, there must be something wrong with the radiator hose. "I said I needed the one from the cube van."

Rick puts his Sherriff's hat back on his head that he had taken off to look at the RV; straightens. "Can we jury-rig it?"

Dale shrugs. "That's all it's been so far, it's more duct tape than hose. And I'm out of duct tape."

I sigh to myself. The outlook doesn't look good. At this rate, it doesn't seem like we are going to get the CDC in the first place, nonetheless, see if it's safe.

"I see something up ahead," Shane informs us, then, binoculars in his hands. "Gas station if we're lucky."

I look where Shane is looking, squint. That doesn't work, however, so I hold my hand up to block the sun out. I squint once more and that's when I see the outline of something. A building; perhaps.

"Ya'll, Jim-" That's Jacqui's voice and just by the tone of it I know something is wrong. I spin around to look at her.

She continues, "It's bad. I don't think he can take anymore."

And that's all she says before she runs back to the RV, disappearing inside.

Shane says that he'll go ahead and check out the building he saw. T-dog volunteers to go with him and before I know it, the two of them are in Shane's jeep, driving away.

I walk away from the RV, then, back to the cars. I have no bench to sit at anymore so I just go to T-dog's church van; sit on the hood. I spot Carl and Sophia at Carol's Cherokee. I'm not sure what they are doing, but the giggles that are coming from them suggest that they are having fun. I scoff, roll my eyes. Good for them. I hope they are having the time of their lives doing whatever they are doing at the Cherokee. Swiveling around, I lay across the hood; gaze up at the blue sky with its puffy, white clouds.

While I gaze, I think. Jim isn't going to make it, I know that. What am I saying? I knew that the second Daryl pulled up his shirt and I saw the bite. When you get bit, you're good as dead. At least, that's what my dad would say anyway... Speaking of Dad, I don't even know why I even still think about him. I mean, I got what I wanted, he's out of my life now. But, I still think about him. I still relate stuff to him. I just-

"What are you doing?"

I jump, sit up. I look over to see Carl standing there. God, Carl- Sophia giggles from behind him, I notice she still has that doll.

"What do you want?" I ask the two, hopping off the van.

Carl shrugs absentmindedly. "Just wanted to see why you were on T-dog's car."

"Just... just felt like it." I start to walk away from the two, then, hoping they'll get the message and leave me alone.

Unfortunately, they don't and they follow me to wherever I am going which I don't even know myself.

"Do you think Jim is going to be okay?" asks Carl.

I stop, turn around. "He's going to die. You know that, right?"

They must have not, though, because the both of them look taken aback by my comment.

"But, my dad-"

"Doesn't know what he's talking about," I interrupt. "He's bit, Carl, it's _over_ for him. Don't you understand that? Any of you?!"

My voice must have rose without me knowing it because Daryl shouts at us then.

"Hey!" he barks. "Would you three keep it down? You have a death wish or somethin'?"

Carl says "no, sir.", Sophia says "sorry, Mr. Dixon.". _Mr. Dixon_? I snort at that and then Sophia and Carl walk away, leaving me alone. Daryl stays, however, raises his eyebrows at me. He's waiting, I know he is, waiting for an apology. Well, it's an apology that he's not getting because all I was doing was explaining _reality_. We can't live in a fantasy world forever. This is how the world is now, and when you're bit, you're bit. You're _done. _There is no other option. No_ exceptions_.

Rolling my eyes at the man, I turn and walk back to the van. Opening the back door, I slide in, slamming it behind me.

Daryl stands there for a few more seconds, staring at me through the glass of the windshield with this stony look. Then, he turns around; walks off.

I bite down on my lip.

_Whatever_.

* * *

I don't know how long I sit in T-dog's van, baking in the heat. Ten minutes, fifteen minutes, twenty minutes, maybe even thirty. I don't know but I know what my dad would be saying if he was here.

"_Oh,_ q_uite your pouting. Grow up."_

"I'm not pouting." I mumble.

The rumble of an engine then approaches, indicating Shane and T-dog are back from the place Shane found. I don't look up to see if they got anything, though, because frankly, I don't care anymore. Carl and Sophia went back to the game or whatever they were doing because I can hear them again; giggling and such. I then hear some sounds coming from the RV and I assume that they are trying to fix it the best they can. _Good._ The sooner we get out of here, the better.

I know why Daryl yelled at me earlier, I do, and it was because I let myself get too loud. Because of those walkers, those stupid walkers and their good hearing. I glance out the open window, making sure not to look at anyone. There is no walkers outside, is there?

_No, River, no walkers at all._

Sighing, I look away from the window. Everyone is doing their thing and then here I am, sitting alone in a van in the hot sun. See, River, this is why you never had many friends, this is why people don't really _like_ you...

I hear sounds, muffles of conversations.

I don't move from my place in the van.

And I stay like that, hunched over and looking down for as long as I can, but eventually, I have to sit up. I have to because I'm being a brat. A _pouty brat._ I'm being a pouty brat and my back hurts. That's why.

I see Rick and Shane appear out of the RV, then, Jim leaning on them for support. My breath catches in my throat, I feel a weight on my chest. I knew Jim was going to die, I did, but I just shouldn't have said those things. It was wrong and I continue to watch from the van as Rick and Shane walk/drag Jim until they get to a tree; lean him up against it. The whole group gathers around and then I can't see Jim anymore, but I know he's still there, lent up against that tree.

I watch Shane bend down to Jim and then he stands. Jacqui kneels down to Jim and stands. Rick does, too, and finally Dale does. They then all turn around; the whole group does; and start to walk away from the man at the tree. Daryl is the last to leave him and then everyone returns to their cars.

The doors to the van open and I move away from the window. T-dog gets in the drivers seat, Andrea sits down in the passenger seat. They both slam the doors shut and then T-dog's turning the key in the ignition, making the engine come to life.

"Are we just leaving him here?" I ask because I have to know, I must.

"Yes." T-dog replies and the cars start to pull away.

And all I can do is hang my head out the window and look at Jim as we pass by.

Even though I know it's not nice to stare.

* * *

**Oh River, you rebel... Lol**

**Btw, just ignore the comments by Gregory Oswald or Greg Oswald (doesn't matter because that's not even her real name) because it is once again one of my best friends and she is just being herself. XD. She doesn't even have a kid and if she did, I'd be concerned because she's as old as me... **

**She does like The Walking Dead, though. ;)**


	15. Chapter 14: Killing Us

***I do not own The Walking Dead. It belongs to its rightful owner.***

* * *

Chapter 14: Killing Us

When we reach the CDC, it's pretty bad.

Dead bodies are everywhere. Flies are swarming around them and I pick out some soldier uniforms from amongst the bodies. It smells terrible; really bad; and I'm having a hard time deciding if the walker guts smelled better or worse than this. I don't know, but as I take in the big, glass building with the letters "CDC" plastered on a sign in front of it and the bodies and the mess and just everything- _e__verything-_ I realize something. There is not a soul in sight. Not one living, breathing, non-infected person is around. It's empty, the whole setup.

And maybe, just maybe, my prediction was right about the CDC being a bust.

T-dog and Andrea are beside me and they then move. We all move, move away from the cars and form a group. My legs keep moving and everyone stays together as we walk past some kind of wall that looks like it is made out of pillows. People are coughing; gaging; and I'm having a hard time not coughing up something awful as I hold my hand up to my mouth.

"Alright everybody," Shane whispers, shotgun in hand. I force myself to focus on him. "Keep moving. Go on. Stay quiet. Let's go."

We venture further into the destruction; pass a sign that I struggle to read because of the blood and a dead body slouched in front of it. "STOP. MILITARY CHECK" That's what I think it says.

We're almost to the doors and I guess it could sort of be considered the front lawn because there is grass and trees that I know did not grow here naturally. They were planted, forced to grow. People talk and there are too many different voices that it is hard to catch who is who.

"Stay together-"

"Keep moving-"

"C'mon-"

"Shh-"

By now, we're moving fast, speed walking, and Rick and Shane practically charge right up to the big, gray doors that almost look like the garage doors that I had back at my house. They knock on them; pound; but nothing happens. I remove my hand from my mouth.

"There's nobody here." T-dog says and he's right and I know at that very moment my prediction came true.

"Then why are these shutters down?" Rick questions, leaning around. I don't know why the shutters are down and there could be a million explanations, but we don't have time and the sky is darkening by the minute.

"Walkers!"

That's Daryl's voice and it alerts all of us. Spinning around, I see a man, no, walker, approaching us. Carl starts to freak out in his mother's arms and Daryl shoots the geek in the head with his crossbow, killing it.

Daryl whirls around, stomps past me; up to Rick. "You lead us into a graveyard!" And with all the dead bodies and everything, I admit, it does feel like one...

"He made a call!" Dale says, trying to reason as always.

"It was the wrong damn call!"

Daryl moves closer to Rick, Shane gets in his face.

"Shut up! You hear me?" Taking his hand, he slams on Daryl's chest; pushing him back. "Shut up! _Shut up!"_

Shane moves away from Daryl and I glance at up at the crossbow wielding man. He stands; stunned. Shock is written across his face.

"Rick, this is a dead end," Shane's voice again and I look away from Daryl to see that Shane is now over by Rick.

"Where are we gonna go?" asks Carol in a desperate voice. We have _no where _to go.

Shane reaches Rick who is looking up at the doors. He touches Rick's face. "Do you hear me? No blame."

Lori speaks, then, looking at her husband and that's when I realize we are starting to look to Rick now instead of Shane. "We can't be here, this close to the city after dark."

"Fort Benning, Rick, still an option-"

"On what?" Andrea questions, and it's the first time she's spoken in awhile. "No food, no fuel. That's one hundred miles."

Glenn corrects her, saying it's actually one hundred and five miles, but what's the difference? We still won't make it. I hear guns clicking all around me from the safety or whatever being switched off. Lori looks to her husband, clenches her teeth, and tells him that we can't wait any longer. We need answers. _Now._

Rick doesn't say anything, though, and then everyone starts moving back, towards the cars. I, however, don't even flinch as people rush past me and their voices start to clump together as they all shout different things at eachother. I stand right next to Rick and face the CDC doors with him. I do, because I _trust_ him; always have. His head turns and he looks down at me. Green and blue clash together as our eyes meet. I nod at Rick and the gaze is then torn apart by a clicking noise.

The little, white camera on the wall above the door. It turns towards Rick and I, focusing on us. My eyes widen. That means-

"The camera," Rick speaks, regaining everybody's attention. "It _moved_."

"You imagined it." I hear Dale speak and I shoot him down.

"No. I saw it too."

Rick moves closer to the door repeating his statement that the camera really did move. Shane talks to him- tells him it's an automated device, the gears- something about the gears...

Shane says, "Man, just listen to me! Look around this place! It's _dead_, okay? It's dead!"

But-

Rick bangs on the doors.

Lori shouts at him "Rick, there's _nobody _here!"

"I know you're in there!" Rick yells. "I know you can hear me!"

Shane says to get back to cars, I don't listen.

But, I do listen to Rick.

"Please, we're _desperate. _Please help us! We have women, children, no food- Hardly any gas left."

I hear moans, I turn around. There's walkers, walkers everywhere; inching closer to us. I put my hand on my knife even though I know it won't save me.

We're going to _die _out here.

But the camera-

"You're killing us!"

Rick's voice is something I've never heard before. Desperate, pleading, I can't explain it. Shane drags him back, away from the door.

"You're killing us!"

And I guess that's not enough for the people or whoever is beyond these stupid doors. A full grown man sounding like something I've never heard before isn't _enough_. The camera, it moved. I saw it and I wasn't imagining it either.

But Rick had been enough after all because the doors then slide up and I'm forced to look into the bright light of whatever is inside.

Perhaps, the CDC isn't a bust.

* * *

**Sorry for such the short chappie but I have all the chapters planned out, so this just how it had to be. Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed it because next chapter it will be fun times in the CDC... Yay... Idk, just don't really like the CDC... :/**

**Also, if any of you guys have a Instagram you can follow me at twd_stuffandthangs for some pretty cool stuff and thangs and also to become part of my Pookie army :D **


	16. Chapter 15: Lost

**Sorry I haven't posted anything lately... Life has just been very hectic with school and all the last-minute testing. But now, I'm on winter break so I have time to update. Yay!**

***I do not own The Walking Dead. It belongs to its rightful owner.***

* * *

Chapter 15: Lost

As quickly as the light appears it disappears into nothingness. The doors stay open, however, inviting us to come inside. We quickly file into the CDC and Shane tells Daryl to watch our backside. I'm aware of my feet connecting with tile and I look down at the shiny floors. I can't remember the last time I've been in a place like this.

"Hello?" Rick calls out and it echoes all around me as we venture further into the empty building. No one answers Rick, but instead the doors that we just entered through close. They echo like Rick's voice did; leaving behind an eerie silence.

Craning my head, I look around the room we're currently in. It's big, really big. Big and spacious like the fields we passed on our way here. It smells wonderful, not like outside at all, and it is like getting hit in the face with fresh air. The big light above me lights the whole space and I'm surprised that whoever lives here can still get electricity. That luxury ended long ago for me. Now, it is just weird to see it.

There is then shuffles from behind me; people fool with their guns. I stay put; wait for the unknown.

"Hello?" Rick tries once more and this time he gets an answer from the sound of a gun cocking.

Somebody -I don't who maybe Glenn- pushes me back and out of the line of fire. Anybody from our group that has a gun is pointing it in the direction the noise came from; _tense._

"Anybody infected?" A voice asks and that is when I see it. In the unlit corridor across the way is a figure.

Rick lowers his gun a bit. "One of our group was. He didn't make it."

Jim. That was Jim.

The figure starts to slowly approach us. It moves into the light and I see that it is a man. A tall, blonde haired man. He has a rifle cradled in his arms and he looks at Rick. "Why are you here?" He questions, "What do you want?"

"A chance." Rick answers truthfully, speaking for all of us. His voice is a little shaky, however, and I can tell that he is nervous. Now that I think of it, I am too.

"That's asking an awful lot these days."

It is, yes, it is, but he already started to give us one by letting us in here. He can't snatch it away now.

"I know." Rick tells him and then the man is silent for a few moments. He looks around, around at all of us; _thinking. _Heavy breathing fills the air and then his eyes move back to Rick; straight face.

"You submit to a blood test. That's the price of admission."

Rick curtly nods. "We can do that."

The man lowers his rifle, then, and the tension seems to clear the room a bit. "You got stuff to bring in, do it now," He points to the door. "Once this door closes, it stays closed."

The doors. The big, heavy, gray, garage-look-alike doors. He's going to close them.

It happens fast. Figures dart out of the building so fast that I barely have time to catch who is who. They rush back in and before I know it, Daryl is shoving my blue backpack into my arms. I tell him "thanks" and he just nods without even really looking at me. I don't blame him, though, I was being a brat earlier.

The man walks up to a keypad that looks like a bigger version of the home security system Payton had back at her house. He swipes a card across it and the light goes from red to green. It makes a beeping noise, as well, and then he leans closer; talks to it.

"Vi, seal the man entrance. Kill the power up here."

Who's Vi?

The outer doors then make a banging noise and I watch through the glass as they clang shut, darkening the room even more.

"Rick Grimes," I hear Rick introduce himself to the stranger. Swinging a backpack strap over one shoulder, I look to the pair.

Dr. Edwin Jenner. That is how the man introduces himself.

We follow the doctor down the corridor he came from and he stops at a set of elevator doors. The doors open, showing that the elevator is actually big. I like elevators, so, I don't hesitate to go inside; even though it's a tight squeeze. The doors close and I hold back a sigh as I realize I'm stuck between Carl and Sophia. The elevator then starts to move and my stomach drops. I can't tell if we are going up or down but it just feels nice to be in an elevator.

At least, one more time.

After a minute of complete, utter silence and me trying to not touch shoulders with either Sophia or Carl, Daryl asks, "Doctors always go 'round packin' heat like that?"

He is referring to the rifle Dr. Jenner still has in his arms. The doctor is in front of me and he turns his body to face Daryl. "Well, there were plenty left lying around. I familiarized myself." His eyes then scan across us, almost like he is searching or looking for something. I don't know what, though, because we're not bitten or anything. Rick had stated that clearly earlier. Dr. Jenner stops his search and I think I see a smile playing on his lips, but I might just be seeing things. "But, you all look harmless enough."

Harmless? I wouldn't exactly say "harmless". We have guns and I have my knife. You could say tired, maybe, but defiantly not _harmless._

Dr. Jenner is now looking at Carl. "Except you. I'll have to keep my eye on you." Carl smiles and I know that the doctor is joking, I know, but when he looks to me I realize he must _really _be joking. "You too."

I don't smile like Carl did. I don't act like I enjoy the attention. Instead, I just give the man a blank stare. My walls go back up and I hide myself under the bed. Dr. Jenner looks away from me, faces forward once more. I look away, too, down at my sneakers.

I'm not harmful.

Couldn't even take out a walker.

* * *

I clutch my backpack strap that I have slung over one shoulder as I follow Dr. Jenner down yet another hallway. This hallway is big, white, and bright. To my right, there is also a line of doors and I stare at them as we continue to walk.

Door after door we pass and then Carol asks, "Are we underground?"

Underground? There are no windows, so I guess the elevator was taking us down.

Dr. Jenner turns around to look at her. "Are you claustrophobic?"

I know I'm not claustrophobic as I am okay right now. But, I also know I can be at times. I just have to be really worked up.

"A little." Carol replies and the doctor turns back around.

"Try not to think about it."

_Try not to think about it._ Isn't that almost impossible? I mean, I'm not sure how this whole thing works but usually when you tell somebody not to think about something it makes it worse. Like; _don't think about walkers, River. _But that's hard because they smell and they bite you and they used to be someone, like a real life _person_. And now, they are just everywhere. Absolutely _everywhere. _And-

Wait, I'm thinking about walkers-

See, it never works...

Further and further down the hallway we go and then Dr. Jenner stops in a big room that he actually calls the "big room" as he instructs Vi to turn on the lights. There is a zapping/buzzing noise as the lights all flicker on. We are standing on a bridge-like platform and it leads to a circle platform with a bunch of computers placed upon it. Railings are on the perimeter of it all and the ground level is a few feet below all the platforms. It almost reminds me of the little computer lab we had back at school only this one is much more advanced and cool looking.

"Welcome to zone 5," Dr. Jenner says and then he starts to walk down the bridge and to the computers. Rick follows him after a moment and we all follow Rick.

"Where is everybody?" Rick asks as he walks. "The other doctors, the staff?"

Dr. Jenner stops walking when he gets to the middle of the circle platform. He turns to face us and he looks small in this huge room. "I'm it. It's just _me_ here."

I grip the railing and face head on what Dr. Jenner has just informed us. He is the only one here. Out of all the people -and I know there were tons because that's what the transmissions said- that were trying to work on a cure for this thing, this man right here, Dr. Edwin Jenner, is the only one left?

And the hope for anything good keeps getting smaller and smaller.

Lori then asks about the person Dr. Jenner was speaking with earlier. Vi, of course, Vi. Where is Vi?

"Vi!" Dr. Jenner calls. "Say hello to our guests. Tell them... 'welcome'."

_"Hello, guests,"_ says a voice and it's everywhere; all around me. It's coming from the walls or something, but then again, I'm not sure. It sounds almost like a woman, but it is computer-like at the same time. _"Welcome."_

Vi isn't real. At least, not human. Vi is some advanced technology that we would probably learn about in science class with Miss. Lytle.

Dr. Jenner faces Rick. When he speaks there is a dull kind of tone to it. "I'm all that's left. I'm sorry."

* * *

I guess I never thought of it before, where exactly Dr. Jenner was going to draw blood from us. Probably the last place I would have thought of was the arm. But sure enough, Rick was the first to go and when he sat down, Dr. Jenner took his arm and plunged that stupid needle straight into it. How could I be so stupid? How could I not think of the arm? That's where they _always _draw blood.

I pace back and forth at my place in line. Not big pacing, no, but enough to get a few good steps in. I can't do this. I can't let him see my scars. He's a doctor. He'll- He'll-

And I've never wanted my scars to disappear more in my life.

Carl went and he was fine. Sophia hasn't gone yet because she is behind me, but I'll know she'll be fine too. And now Daryl is going and I'm next and I hate needles, I hate them so much. I wish I could just disappear; fall off the face of the earth. Or, get bit. I wish I could get bit. All the sudden, Daryl is getting up from the chair, indicating that he is done. He goes over to where the others are that have already went. They are sitting in chairs that is making this room look like a classroom, just without desks.

I'm then aware of Dr. Jenner staring at me and I know it is my turn, but I don't move. I stay put and I think Dr. Jenner asks me if I'm alright, but I still do nothing. I'm pretty sure the whole room is staring at me now and very slowly my legs start to move and I lower myself down in the chair in front of Dr. Jenner. He has the syringe in his hand and I just stare at him.

"I need your arm," he tells me and I bite down on my lip; _hard._ "It will just sting for a second, I promise."

It's not the needle I'm worried about, though. I don't tell him that, however, I just hand my arm over; look away so I won't have to see his reaction. There is a whiteboard across the way with a bunch of words and drawings that most likely don't even matter anymore. Locking my eyes onto it, I stare at the whiteboard.

_Look at the whiteboard, River, look at the whiteboard._

I feel the pinch of the needle.

_Look at the whiteboard, River, look at the whiteboard._

The needle is then gone and Dr. Jenner's hands leave my arm.

It's done. It's over.

Without looking at him, I get up and out of the chair. My legs carry me over to the wall and I slide down it. Pulling my knees to my chest, I take a big breath.

_Relax, River, it's okay._

I want to cry but I can't. Not here, not now.

So instead, I sit right here, just like this, while everyone else gets their blood taken.

And in a way, I still wish I could get bit.

Even though deep down I would never want that.

* * *

Dr. Jenner knows where my scars came from. I know he does because he's not stupid. He'll probably tell Rick and then Rick will tell the others. But then again, I'm pretty sure that the others already know by the way they look at me with sympathy in their eyes. I hate when they do that, I really do. I hate a lot of things...

Dr. Jenner takes us to the cafeteria and he actually gives us food. Apparently, he has a full stock so he doesn't mind sharing. The grownups get wine and I try to diminish my sadness as I surround myself with happy people. It works a little bit and I nibble on my chicken that tastes like something you would get at a fancy restaurant as everybody laughs around the table. Carl's dad lets Carl taste wine. I don't why he does, but Carl thinks it's disgusting, so I guess it doesn't really matter. Shane tells Carl to stick to soda and Daryl tells Glenn to keep drinking; see how red his face can get. Someone tries to get me to try some wine but I reject it. My dad was an alcoholic and I have already been pretty bratty today. Don't want to add anything else to the list.

Rick then rises from his place at the table and thanks Dr. Jenner for letting us stay here. He also thanks the doctor for the food and Daryl yells "Booyah!" which some others repeat. Dr. Jenner smiles a little and raises is glass in thanks. Glasses clank together and then more laughs fill the air; smiles too.

And it all strangely reminds me of the fish fry.

Only this time instead of walkers ruining the mood, it's Shane.

"So," he says. "When were you gonna tell us what the hell happened here, doc?" Everyone goes quiet and I see Shane start to play with his glass as he talks. "All the, uh, the other doctors that were supposed to be figurin' out what happened... Where are they?"

"We're celebrating, Shane," Rick informs him, trying to get him off the topic. "Don't need to do this now."

But Shane presses, "Whoa, wait a second. This is why we're here, right?" His eyes move across the table to Rick. He stops playing with his glass; folds his hands. "This was _your_ move. Supposed to find all the answers. Instead, we, uh-" Shane snorts; swings his thumb back in Dr. Jenner's direction. "We found _him._ Found one man, why?"

Shane is now talking to Dr. Jenner but he's not looking at him. That's something Mom would do to Dad when they would fight. I never really understood why, though...

Dr. Jenner replies to Shane, then. He speaks in a voice that suggests that he's not bothered by what Shane said. That's good, he doesn't anger easily then. "Well, when things got bad, a lot of people just... left. Went off to be with their families."

I remember when things started to get bad, when people started to bite each other. My school closed, my dad stopped going to his job as an construction worker that he only went to so the bank wouldn't come and take the house away. People were instructed to stay inside their homes.

"And when things got worse," he continues, "When the military cordon got overrun, the rest bolted."

That was when we left home. When the soldiers started killing people.

"Every last one?" Shane asks and I can tell he is skeptical.

"No, many couldn't face walking out the door. They... opted out."

My mouth goes dry. Those words.. I've heard them before. They're not good words.

"There was a rash of suicides."

Suicide. I never thought about it before. I mean, I guess if it was that bad...

"That was a bad time." Dr. Jenner finishes, looking down. There is now a new hint of sadness in the room; I can feel it.

"You didn't leave," states Andrea. "Why?"

"I just kept working... hoping to do some good."

Hope is good, it is. It keeps you _sane._

But just because you have hope doesn't mean you can fix everything.

* * *

I guess I didn't realize how big the CDC was. It must be really big, though, because Dr. Jenner is now leading us down a narrow hallway into a whole new section of the building. I have my backpack with me and Carl, Sophia, and I are right behind the doctor; leading the group.

"Most of the facility is powered down," Dr. Jenner talks while we walk. "Including housing, so you'll have to make do here. The couches are comfortable, but there are cots in storage if you like." He stops, turns so he's faceing Sophia, Carl, and me. "There's a rec room down the hall that you kids might enjoy," he says, kneeling down so he is eye-level with the three of us. "Just don't plug in any of the video games, okay? Or anything that draws power."

We nod, even me, though my nod is very weak. I know I'm not going to use the rec room.

Dr. Jenner stands back up, then, and tells us all that if we shower to go easy on the hot water. With that, he walks away leaving all of us very stunned.

"Hot water?" Glenn asks, disbelief in his voice.

T-dog smiles. "That's what the man said."

* * *

All by myself, I find my own room. I hate sleeping alone, but I'm not going to bother Glenn or anyone.

Besides, they're drunk anyhow.

Sighing, I unzip my bag and start to go through the contents. My hand brushes over something small and I pick it up. It's a faded, crumbled picture of my mom, dad, and me; all three of us smiling. I was six at the time and it was taken back when we went to the beach together. Needless to say, that was one of the only vacations I ever went on.

And I barely even remember it.

Holding back some tears that were threatening to fall, I shove the picture back into my bag and grab the oversized shirt and sweatpants I had originally been searching for. I then walk into the bathroom and turn on the light. The tile feels cool under my bare feet and I set my clothes on the counter. When I look in the mirror, however, I freeze.

I freeze because I barely recognize myself.

I've lost weight, I can tell that right away. I mean, I've always been pretty small for the most part, but now, it's much more distinct. Dirt is caked across my face; making me appear to look like I just rolled in the dirt. My hair is also frizzy and I can see some knots starting to form in the brunette strands. I then remember what Ed did to me and very gingerly, I take my hand and lift my tangled hair up. The side of my head is swollen in a black/blue color and I cringe a bit when I see it. I can tell it has healed just a little, so it must have looked pretty bad when I got it.

At least, it doesn't hurt as much anymore.

Putting my hair back down, I grip the counter and gaze into the mirror some more. I look like a mess, I do, but out of everything, my green eyes is what sticks out the most. They're bright, very green, and I finally understand why my mom would refer to them as emeralds. They make it look like I am fine and nothing is wrong at all.

And that is why I am good at hiding things; concealing them.

I try to go easy on the hot water, I do, but when the warm water hits my tense muscles, I find myself inching the knob closer and closer to the red H. I don't know how long I stay in the shower, but I know it's long enough for me to scrub my whole body down and shampoo and condition my hair at least twice. When I'm all done, I dry and change into the clothes I had picked out. I then quickly brush my teeth and out the bathroom door is where I go.

I exchange my dirty clothes for my sleeping bag and unrolling my sleeping bag, I spread it across the couch that looks exactly as Dr. Jenner had said. _Comfortable._ There is some pillows on the couch, too, and I set them at the edge of the sleeping bag. When I'm all done, I step back and admire my work.

It's no five star hotel but it's defiantly better than the floor of a tent.

* * *

After a few minutes, I leave my room. I don't know where I'm going, I just know I can't stay _there_. Besides, it's too early to fall asleep and the less time nightmares plague my head, the better.

As I walk down the carpeted, narrow hallway I hear vomiting coming from one room; laughing from another. I ignore it all, though, and just keep walking until I get to the end of the hallway, which is where I let my legs rest and I sink to the floor. My still wet hair clings to me a bit and I can smell the flower scented shampoo I used. I take a big whiff of it; sigh.

I haven't felt this clean in months.

All the sudden, I hear the pitter-patter of feet approaching me and I know who it is right away. I recognize these footsteps anywhere because they have snuck up on me plenty of times; the owner begging me to say something, anything at all.

The footsteps get louder and then they stop as the figure is now beside me. "Are you okay?"

I still don't why he bothers. I've shot him down plenty of times, you'd think he'd learn by now. Even practically told him to grow up. But now, here he still is. Here he still is questioning me as I give him dull answers because I don't know what to say half the time. I was never one for words.

I don't look at him when I speak. "I'm fine."

I hear him shuffle. "You should've came to the rec room. It was pretty cool."

Should've, could've, would've. I let a sigh escape my lips.

"Why do you do that?"

Finally, I look up at him. I look up at the brown haired blue eyed boy that just won't leave me alone. "Do what?"

"Get mad every time I-I try to be nice," he says and I think I see a tint of hurt in his eyes, but I don't know. I need sleep. "I'm just trying to _help_ you."

"I don't need 'help'. I've done just fine for the past two years."

He's confused now and he tilts his head to the side. "What?"

Crap. I-I didn't mean to say that. _That_ is a personal matter and Carl doesn't need to know about it. I panic, then, and I jump up from the floor. Running down the hall, I reach my room and throw the door open; slamming it shut behind me. I switch off the lights and before I know it, I'm on the couch; huddled up in my sleeping bag.

I press my face into the couch and suck it up.

Crying is stupid and I'm stupid and everything is just plain _stupid_.

God, I'm so lost.

So very lost.

* * *

**I hope this chapter was worth the wait because it took me a very long time. Consisting of over 4,000 words, this is my longest chapter yet!**

**Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it and don't forget to review. :D**


	17. Chapter 16: What Happens At Zero

**Since the last chapter took so long, I tried to get this one up as quick as I could for all of you.**

**This is my Christmas gift to you.**

***I do not own The Walking Dead. It belongs to its rightful owner***

* * *

Chapter 16: What Happens At Zero

The smell of eggs is what draws me out of my room and down to the kitchen at what I assume is early the next morning. When I reach the dimly lit room, the clanking of dishes and small talk between group members is apparent. Wiping the sleep out of my eyes, I glance up to see T-dog handing me a plate of eggs -claiming that he cooked himself- and a glass half full of orange juice. I thank him and then move to sit at the table. I spot Carl already there with his mother; eating his own plate of eggs. Avoiding any eye contact, I move all the way to the other end of the table; take a seat.

Stabbing my puffy, yellow scrambled eggs with my fork, I begin to recap what happened after I left Carl in the hall. Surprisingly, I slept soundly. There were no nightmares that made me startle awake in the middle of the night; drenched in my own sweat. It was all fine and dandy and I don't know why exactly it was, but, it just felt _nice_.

It felt nice to sleep like a normal person.

After a few minutes of me stabbing my eggs and sipping on my juice, the others start to slowly filter into the room. Most of the adults are hungover; which is expected; and Glenn groans and moans saying that he's never going to drink again.

Yeah. My dad told me that... _once_.

T-dog asks Shane what happened to his neck and I notice three scratch marks on it when he sits down. Shane says that he must of done it in his sleep or something which is fairly understandable. There is one thing I catch, however. One little thing that seems _off. _When Shane explains what he thinks happened to his neck, he gives a knowing glance to Lori. She looks away, though, and maybe I'm thinking too much of the situation because they are just friends.

But, still- It's just weird...

Dr. Jenner walks in, then, and he is greeted with a couple "mornings" and "hellos". He walks over to the where the food and drinks are and just as I wash down a piece of egg with orange juice, Dale asks,

"Doctor, I don't mean to slam you with questions first thing-"

"But you will anyway," Dr. Jenner interrupts, keeping his back turned to us.

Andrea tells the doctor that we didn't come here for the eggs and that's when the room starts to feel stiff like it did last night. Suddenly not feeling hungry anymore, I sit my fork down on my plate. Dr. Jenner turns away from the counter and looks at us.

He sighs, "Follow me."

And so, we do.

* * *

The room that looks like a blown up, high-tec version of the computer lab back at school. That is where Dr. Jenner takes us. He takes us there and I see him press a bottom on a computer. Vi, he talks to Vi.

"Give me a playback of TS-19."

_"Playback of TS-19," _Vi repeats and I don't know what "TS-19" means but then, bam, a screen appears on the wall. It kind of reminds me of a movie theater screen and it has the word "LOADING" on it and then a blue bar underneath.

Loading? Loading what? TS-19?

Dr. Jenner turns away from the computer. The big screen now reads, "LOADING DATA SET".

"Few people ever got a chance to see this," he says. "Very few."

The loading screen then disappears and a brain pops up. It's not exactly a brain, though, there is a head and then you can see the brain inside. Basically, it's like an X-RAY; so to speak.

"Is that a brain?" Carl asks and I feel like telling him "yes" because of course it is.

What else would it be?

Dr. Jenner beats me to the chase, though, and leaning down, he tells Carl that the brain is an "extraordinary one".

The doctor then sits back up and looks to the screen; talks out and into the open. "Not that it matters in the end... Take us in for E.I.V.."

Once again, he uses a term that I'm not familiar with but I just cross my arms and watch as the screen switches positions.

_"Enhanced Internal View,"_ Vi says and I guess that explains what E.I.V. stands for.

The camera then starts to zoom in on the new position of the brain. It keeps going, and then it everything looks blue. There is little zaps of white here and there and it kind of reminds me of plant roots or something like that.

"What are those lights?" asks Shane.

"It's a person's life," Dr. Jenner gestures to the screen and starts to pace a bit like a teacher would in a classroom. "Experiences, memories... It's _everything. _Somewhere in all that organic wiring, all those ripples of light, is _you._ The thing that makes you unique. And human."

"You don't make sense, ever?" Daryl says and I don't really understand him because I get it. The thing on the screen is _me._ Well, that brain might not actually be me, but my own brain is. Everything I've ever done or seen is trapped inside it somewhere. It's the reason why I am different than someone else. It's why I have trouble talking to Carl while he is completely fine. It's just -well- it's just _me._

"Those are synapses," Dr. Jenner tells Daryl and I have no clue what that means. I'm not good with big words. "Electric impulses in the brain that carry all the messages. They determine everything a person says, does, or thinks from the moment of birth... to the moment of death."

Death scares me.

"Death?" repeats Rick, coming forward. "That's what this is, a vigil?"

And of course, I don't know what that means.

But, Dr. Jenner must because he responds to Rick. "Yes. Or ra-rather, the playback of the vigil."

"This person died?" Andrea asks. Her voice is soft; quiet; but I can still hear it because she is just to my right. "Who?"

"Test subject 19."

TS 19... that-that's test subject nineteen.

"Someone who was bitten and infected... and volunteered to have us record the process." It's silent for a few moments and it's like Dr. Jenner is in a daze. He breaks out of it, though, calls out to Vi. "Vi, scan forward to first event!"

_"Scanning to first event."_

The screen zooms back out and fuzzes for a second, but when it comes back, some of the blue, the "roots" -that's what I like to call them- are black. I squint up at the screen to make sure I'm seeing it right. I must be, though, because the brain stays the same.

"What is _that_?" asks Glenn and that's exactly what I want to know.

Dr. Jenner points at the screen. "It invades the brain like meningitis," he says, and this time, I actually know what he is talking about. Meningitis, I've heard that word before. I know it's an illness; not sure what kind of illness; but, I know it is one. A _terrible_ one. Dr. Jenner goes back to talking, but I don't catch what is said. Something about glands, I think... Not really sure...

But, I do hear what he says next.

"The brain goes into shutdown, then the major organs," As he speaks, I watch the screen. The black on the brain keeps growing and growing until it is covering the whole thing; leaving no blue behind. The person is moving; thrashing; and then-

And then test subject 19 isn't moving anymore.

"Then death," Dr. Jenner adds and he says it sadly; looking down at the floor. "Everything you ever were or ever will be... _gone_."

My chest tightens and I look down at the white, tile floor for a moment. I never want to become one of those _things_. I think I've always said that to myself from the start, but now, the want to not get bit is even stronger. I didn't know the process before; how utterly painful and saddening it truly is.

And I now feel stupid for telling myself that I'd rather get bit than take the chance of a doctor seeing my scars.

I hear Sophia's voice, then, asking her mother if this is what happened to Jim. Carol tells her yes and then I'm hearing Andrea sniffling from beside. Glancing over at the blonde haired woman, I notice that her eyes are red.

She's crying.

Dr. Jenner notices this as well and Lori answers the question that I can see forming in his eyes from Andrea's behavior.

"She lost somebody two days ago," she says, "Her sister." Two days? Has it really been that long? Then again, ever since this infection started all the days have seemed to clump together for me. I don't even remember the last time I saw Dad. The last time I-

No, River; _stop._ Dad is _done_. You need to stop thinking about him.

But I can't.

Not with these scars.

Not when I know he was never bitten.

Dr. Jenner moves closer to Andrea; leans down. "I lost somebody too. I know how devastating it is."

Don't we all think we know?

The doctor then straightens and moves away from Andrea. He goes back to the computer; back to Vi. "Scan to the second event."

_"Scanning to second event."_

The screen fuzzes again and the loading bar comes back up. This time, it reads "SCANNING FORWARD".

"The resurrection times vary widely," Dr. Jenner goes back to talking. He is facing the screen; arms crossed. "We had reports of it happening in as little as three minutes. The longest we heard of was eight hours. In the case of this patient, it was two hours... one minute... seven seconds."

The screen clears and the brain is still black and dark; lifeless. All the sudden -like a flash of lighting- red is appearing on the brain; dark red. It's small, smaller than the black when it first appeared, but it is in the same spot. It is zapping and flashing as well and it has a weird kind of vibe to it; _death_.

"It restarts the brain?" Lori asks, disbelief in her tone.

"No, just the brain stem," What's that? The root looking things? "Basically, it gets them up and moving."

"But they're not alive?" Rick asks, but it's in a tone that suggests that he already knew this; just confirming it.

Dr. Jenner steps back; gestures to the screen. "You tell me."

Rick shakes his head. "It's nothing like before. Most of this brain is dark."

"Dark, lifeless, dead. The frontal lobe, the neocortex, the human part- that doesn't come back. The _you_ part. Just a... shell. Driven by mindless instinct."

The person, no, walker, is no longer lifeless. It is now thrashing; clamping it's jaw.

_Dead._

_Gone._

Suddenly, there is a big flash and the walker then goes still. The brain is now split diagonally.

"God," I hear Carol's voice from behind me. "What was that?"

Andrea says that he shot his patient in the head. She turns to the doctor, "Didn't you?"

But her question is ignored; diminishes into nothing.

"Vi, power down the main screen and the workstations."

_"Powering down main screen and workstations."_

There is a humming sound that reminds me of a vacuum cleaner and then the screen goes dark; the little lights around the computers do too. The room goes quiet and I feel Daryl's presence closer than it was before. Andrea asks,

"You have no idea what it is, do you?"

Dr. Jenner starts listing off what it "could" be: microscopic, something in the air, a parasite, some kind of fungus- Jacqui even adds that it could be God himself and Dr. Jenner throws that into the mx of everything. I have no idea- Man, I'm twelve...

Andrea moves closer so she now in the center of the group. "Somebody must know _something_. Somebody; somewhere."

"There are others, right?" Carol asks. "Other facilities?"

Dr. Jenner sways and the look on his face gives me a bad feeling burning deep down in my belly. "There 'may' be some. People like me."

More questions. This time, from Rick. "But you don't know? How can you not know?"

"Everything went down. Communications, directives- all of it. I've been in the dark for almost a month."

Andrea breaks it down and says that Dr. Jenner is basically saying that there is nothing left anywhere. That all the built up hope, the transmissions, a cure, anything that we had set on having a good outcome- was, on the whole, _nothing_.

It's always been nothing.

We just hadn't figured it out yet.

"Man, I'm gonna get shitfaced drunk... again." Daryl says from beside me, rubbing his eyes in the process. I roll my eyes and then Dale is pestering the doctor with one more question.

"Dr. Jenner, I know this has been taxing for you," he says, "And I hate to ask one more question, but..." He sighs; points to a big, rectangular digital clock on the wall that I had not noticed before. "That clock, it's counting down... What happens at zero?"

"The... basement generators- they run out of fuel." The doctor whips around, then, inches closer to the door. Something doesn't feel right.

"Then what?" Rick asks and I am wondering this as well.

Dr. Jenner doesn't answer, though, he simply walks away. Away from the weighted questions.

So, Rick _does_ something.

"Vi, what happens when the power runs out?"

_"When the power runs out, facility-wide decontamination will occur."_

My stomach hurts.

* * *

I go back to my room. The door clicks closed behind me.

Something is going on. Something _bad_.

The way Dr. Jenner was so brief when he spoke about the clock; walked off on us. Vi said something- What was it again? _Decontamination._ Yeah, that's it. Decontamination reminds me of chemicals... and chemicals, they're not good.

All the sudden, a little voice in my head tells me to go to my backpack I have leant up against the couch. For some reason, I listen to this voice -even though I have told myself time after time to forget it- and I find myself unzipping the blue bag. I stick my hand in the now open hole and start rummaging through it until I find what the voice in my head is telling me to look for.

The picture.

I yank it out and cradle in my hands for a moment; stare at the happy people that don't even look like Dad, Mom, and me. I then fold it in half and stick it in my jean pocket.

Maybe the voices in my head aren't so stupid after all.

Because right now, I have that _feeling._ That little, tingly feeling I get right before something bad happens.

I put my hand in my pocket; touch the photo with my fingertips.

At least, I'll have _this._

And that's when the lights go out.

* * *

"Energy use is being prioritized." That's what Dr. Jenner informs us as everyone -except Rick, Shane, Glenn, and T-dog which I'm even sure where they went- walks down the narrow hallway once more. Strangely though, something in me says that it could be the last time.

"Air isn't a priority?" Dale asks as we continue to walk. "And lights?"

"It's not up to me," His voice is dull; flat. I don't like it. "Zone 5 is shutting itself down." Shutting down... As in; _forever_?

And just like that, all the lights in the hall that were just on, burn out; leaving only the emergency lights.

"Hey!" Daryl brushes past me as we try and keep up with the doctor, who is actually walking pretty fast. "Hey, what the hell does that mean?" We reach the end of the hallway; turn a corner. Daryl finally catches up to the doctor and continues his assault. "Hey, man, I'm talkin' to you. What do you mean it's shuttin' itself down? How can a building do anythin'?"

Dr. Jenner doesn't break pace but he does finally answer the man. "You'd be surprised." he mutters, and I hate the way he says it...

Twisting around another corner and down a flight of stairs is where we go. It's dark; all dark; except for the emergency lights. I don't like it but I'll be okay. I'm not afraid of the dark. My foot hits tile and then my eyes land upon the four missing group members. Where were they?

But I guess it doesn't matter because the questions come first. Always the questions.

Rick starts, "Jenner, what's happening?"

"The system is dropping all the nonessential uses of power. It's designed to keep the computers running to the last possible second. That started as we approached the half-hour mark." We enter the room with all the computers and he gestures to the clock that now reads _00:31'28._ What did it say when Dale first noticed it? I don't remember- "Right on schedule."

This time, we hadn't entered the main entrance with the bridge-like platform. We are below the platforms and Dr. Jenner goes over to a three-step staircase that leads to the computer platform. He puts a foot on the first step and then pauses; turns. "It was the French."

We are now all stopped as well and Andrea asks, "What?"

"They were the last ones to hold out, as far as I know. While our people were bolting out the doors and committing suicide in the hallways, they stayed in the labs till the end. They thought they were close to a solution."

"But they didn't find one," I say and I don't know what dared me to do it, but I'm not regretting it. "Did they?"

It's like my question catches the doctor off guard and he abruptly stops at the top of the steps. He faces me and that's when I realize that it is the first words he has ever heard me say. "No. Not that I'm aware of."

"Then what happened?"

"Same thing that's happening here. No power grid. Ran out of juice."

He then talks about how the world runs on fossil fuel but I'm not listening anymore. I look around at the group. Most of the adults look mad; confused even. Carl and Sophia look scared and of course they are. But the real question is, _what am I_? I don't know what I am.

The doctor starts to walk away from us; over to a computer. Shane is having none of this, though, because he dashes up the steps and after him. "Let me tell you somethin'-"

Rick grabs Shane's arm in attempt to get him to stop. "To hell with it, Shane! I don't even care!"

Rick and Shane are both on the platform now. I see Dr. Jenner at a computer and that is when Rick turns to us. First, he talks to his wife but then he talks to all of us, saying get our stuff and get out of here. _Now._

He is serious and all of this is serious and as I slowly back away from the two men, perhaps I am scared like Sophia and Carl.

At least, they have their moms to hold them and tell them that everything is going to be okay.

Suddenly, a blaring noise echoes throughout the whole room; stopping us all in our tracks. I don't know where it is exactly coming from, but it's loud and sounds like Dad's old alarm clock, only this is much, much louder.

_"Thirty minutes to decontamination."_ Vi's voice speaks over the loud noise. I then hear the big screen come to life and instead of a brain being displayed, it's a big digital clock, like the one on the wall.

_00:29:58:13_

That's what the clock reads when I look at it.

And if I wasn't scared before, I defiantly am now.

My chest is heavy, there is pounding in my ears. _Thump. Thump. Thump. _

But Shane, Shane is talking, no, shouting, and I have to listen no matter how scared I am.

"Get your stuff and let's go! Go now! Go!"

We move fast. Back to our rooms, yes, that's where we are going. My backpack -my blue backpack- I have to get it. I need-

There is then a clanging sound. I turn to see the door across from the bridge platform bang shut. My whole body freezes.

That is the main entrance. The only way _out_ of here.

And now, it's closed.

"Did you just lock us in?" Glenn asks, clearly as stunned as I am. "He just locked us in!"

I can't move. I'm _stuck_. I'm aware of people moving around me but I stay put; eyes locked on the door. Rick is up on the bridge platform in front of the door. He stares at it just as I am. I blink but the door stays closed. Why is the door still closed? Why-

Lori yells for Carl, Carl yells for his mom.

I keep staring at the door.

There is a commotion behind me. People shouting all over the place. They're mad and loud and I'm sure they are all attacking Dr. Jenner. It's kind of sad, actually. Like the little chance a lamb has against a wolf. Dr. Jenner is the lamb... and we are a pack of wolves.

"Hey, Jenner," I hear Rick's voice speaking in a serious tone. "Open that door. _Now."_

"There's no point. Everything topside is locked down. The emergency exits are sealed."

Finally, my legs let me move and I turn around and away from the door.

"Well, open the damn things." Dale says; aggravated.

Dr. Jenner says that he doesn't control that, the computers do. He keeps going and reminds us that he had told us that once the doors closed, they wouldn't open again. We heard him say that.

Yeah, but we didn't think he meant it in _that_ way.

My legs move once again and I go up the three-staired staircase; stand next to the rest of the group.

"It's better this way." Dr. Jenner says simply and I don't understand.

"What is?" Rick asks the question we all want to know. He leans in closer to the doctor. "What happens in twenty eight minutes?"

His questions are ignored, though, and Dr. Jenner turns to his computer; starts typing like everything is completely fine.

But it's not. Its very far from fine.

Shane and Rick share a look and then the two of them grab the doctor. I'm not sure if this is exactly the right call or not, but Rick is yelling at him; demanding the answer for what happens in twenty eight minutes. Dr. Jenner is standing now and he pushes the two men away from him. He looks angry, I can see it in his eyes.

"Do you know what this place is?!" he yells and the whole room seems to still around me. "We protected the public from _very_. _Nasty_. _Stuff_!" Dr. Jenner is standing directly in front of Shane. Their eyes are locked and he shouts right into the man's face. I shrink back and my lower back collides with the side of a desk. I haven't felt this way since the quarry but I know what is to come.

The doctor keeps going; his voice getting a little louder and higher as he continues to yell. "Weaponized smallpox! Ebola strains that could wipe out half the country! Stuff you don't want getting out! _Ever!"_

And right then is when I know that Dr. Jenner just cracked and lost his temper. _Finally._

The boiling doctor goes back to his chair; sits down. He straightens his white lab coat and wipes his mouth before he dares to speak another word. When he does start talking again, though, it's in the kind of strained voice that someone tends to get while trying to cool down after they just had a big argument. "In the event of a catastrophic power failure -in a terrorist attack, for example- HITs are deployed to prevent any organisms from getting out."

Science class. This would be another thing that we would learn about in science class. But this isn't science class and I'm probably never going to see Miss. Lytle or my school or my classmates ever again. So, I have to make do with the explanation that Vi so kindly provides us with.

_"HITS, high-impulse thermobaric fuel-air_ _explosives-" _

Explosives... like dynamite?

_"-consist of a two-stage aerosol ignition that_ produces_ a blast wave of significantly greater power and duration than any other known explosive except nuclear. The vacuum-pressure effect ignites the oxygen at between five thousand and six thousand degrees and is useful when the greatest loss of life and damage to structure is desired."_

The other two kids are crying. Sophia is tucked into her mother's chest and Carl is smashed in between his parents.

"It sets the air on fire." Dr. Jenner mumbles, adding to what Vi had said.

I move my arms up; set my head in my hands.

"No pain."

I put more weight on the desk I'm leaning on. I feel my eyes start to get glassy as realization hits.

"An end to sorrow, grief, regret..."

I wipe my eyes; give myself my own type of comfort that I know Mom would give if she were here.

But she's not.

"Everything."

So that's what happens at zero?

When the clock stops ticking, ours does too.

I knew it was only a matter of time...

* * *

**Well, I wanted to get the CDC done in two chapters but I quickly realized that it was not going to happen when I went over everything I wanted to add.**

**Oh well...**


	18. Chapter 17: Accepting

***I do not own The Walking Dead. It belongs to its rightful owner.***

* * *

Chapter 17: Accepting

"Open the damn door!"

That's Daryl's voice and it's followed by the smashing of a glass. I'm sitting in the middle of all the computers; propped up against one as my arms secure my knees to my chest. Carl and Sophia are a couple of feet from me. They are crying in their mothers arms and Lori and Carol are crying and it's a whole big sobbing mess. Jacqui is standing somewhere nearby. Andrea is sitting close; no tears just like me.

"Out of my way!"

I'm pretty sure that's Shane's voice, now, but, I don't turn my head to look.

There is harsh pounding and scraping noises of metal hitting metal. I guess someone got the bag with all the weapons we brought. The noises continue and I rest my chin on my knees as I listen to all the grunting and yelling and shouting. It almost covers up the sobbing of the other two kids and their moms. _Almost._

"You should've left well enough alone," Dr. Jenner says and I had pretty much forgot that he was sitting here; in front of us. He has not spoken that much since his whole blowout earlier. "It would've been so much easier."

"Easier for who?" Lori asks and it sort of comes out in a gurgle. She's not crying anymore but I can still see some twinkle in her eyes.

"All of you. You know what's out there- a short, brutal life and an agonizing death," He looks to Andrea who hasn't said a word. "Your- your sister- what was her name?"

"Amy."

"Amy," he repeats. "You know what this does. You've seen it."

Dr. Jenner looks up, then, and my eyes follow him. Rick is standing there and not too far away is Dale. I'm actually surprised to see them here because I thought that they would be trying to open the door like the others. Then again, between Dale's wise words of reasoning and Rick's leadership skills, they have enough sense to know that the door is not opening anytime soon.

They know that it is hopeless.

The doctor keeps his eyes on Rick; talks to the man who I listen to even though we are supposed to look to Shane. "Is that what you want for your wife and son?"

Rick leans in closer to Dr. Jenner. He clenches his teeth and hisses like a snake about to strike at its prey. "I don't. Want. _This_."

And me? Do I even know what I want? No, not really. I just let everything happen around me. I let everything go through its own course and I let all the yelling and shouting and killing happen. And then, I go from there. I guess you could just say that I _accept it. Yeah._

"Can't make a dent." Shane says, panting. His voice is closer, now, and I assume that he finally realized it was useless to try.

There is more breathless pants from Shane and then, "Those doors were designed to withstand a rocket launcher."

Dr. Jenner's voice states that and then there is fast footsteps getting closer.

"Well your head ain't!" Daryl yells with an axe raised above his head while charging to the doctor. I bury my head into my knees and cover my head with my arms. There is a scuffle and shouts fill the room once more. Shouts like: "Whoa, whoa!" and "Just back up! Back up!". Daryl's name being yelled is even thrown into the mix. When it's all done and over, I lift my head from my knees. All the men are scattered around the circle platform. Sophia and Carl are still in their mothers laps. All four of them sit on the hard, white tile with wide eyes, like they are still recovering from what happened. Andrea is still near me but she has moved to the right a bit, so she is behind the computer desk. Daryl is steaming; looking like someone just ruffled his feathers. And that is pretty much would just took place.

Dr. Jenner is still perched in his chair; unharmed. When he talks again, it is directed to Rick. The doctor tells him that he does want _this. _He reminds Rick that the man had said that it was only a matter of time before everyone he loved was dead. It is only a matter of time, yes, it is, but that doesn't sound like Rick. At least, the Rick I know. Shane must catch onto this, too, because he asks the former Sheriff if he really did say that.

"I had to keep hope alive, didn't I?" Rick says to his wife who is giving him the "you didn't" look.

"There is no hope, there never was." Dr. Jenner says and he's right. There _used _to be hope, back when this whole thing started. A hope for a cure. But that is gone now. My mind goes back to my dad's little handheld radio. Back at camp, he would sit in his faded blue pickup truck with the windows down; cranking the radio dial like there was no tomorrow. But that was the thing, we didn't know if there would be a "tomorrow" and if we would be alive to see it. We didn't know _anything_ and Dad, well, Dad wanted _answers_. Sometimes, I would sit with him in the truck. He wouldn't say anything about it and the only reason I would sit with him was because he was half decent without his boo's and drugs. I guess you could say that I wanted to soak in any part -anything- of the old him.

At times, he would get a signal and alert Payton's dad who would come over and listen to the transmissions with him. Most of the time, though, there would be nothing be static. Dad would mutter some curse word under his breath and then look to me. He would look at me and I would be able to see it in his grey eyes. The things he wouldn't say out loud for the sake of others.

_Hopeless._

_Dim._

_Weak._

"There's always hope," Rick's voice brings me back to the present. He steps closer to the doctor. "Maybe it won't be you, maybe not here, but somebody somewhere-"

"What part of 'everything is gone' do you not understand?" Andrea questions, looking up at Rick. She's right, I guess, but I still don't know. I never know...

"Listen to your friend," Dr. Jenner advises Rick. "She _gets_ it. This is what takes us down. This is our extinction event." Extinct. That's what we'll be. Just like the dinosaurs.

The crying still continues. I softly sigh. I'm surprised that they haven't used up all their tears at this rate. Carol looks up at the doctor, swallows, and tells him that he can't just keep us here.

Dr. Jenner leans forward in his chair; looks at the weeping woman with soft eyes. "One tiny moment," he reasons. "A-A millisecond. No pain."

"My daughter doesn't deserve to die like _this_!"

But Dr. Jenner still reasons. He talks to her in a calm voice even as she hands Sophia over to Dale and stands up. The doctor asks that wouldn't it be kinder to just hold our loves ones and wait for the clock to run out?

I don't have any "loved ones".

All of the sudden, there is a gun cocking. Daryl?

Whoever it is, I know it's for Dr. Jenner and I have to move; I must.

Rick yells, "Shane, no!"

So it's not Daryl...

"Out of my way, Rick!" Shane shouts back. "Stay out of my way!"

Andrea moves even further behind the desk. Shane is in front of Dr. Jenner, shotgun pointed in the doctor's face and yelling at him; saying that he is going to blow his head off if he doesn't open the door right now. And me? Well, I'm standing now. I'm on my feet and a little off to the side; watching.

Shane keeps the gun pointed and there is something in his eyes that completely chills me to the bone. It is some kind of uncontrolled craziness and Rick tells him that if he does this, kills Dr. Jenner, we'll never get out of here. We won't because the doctor is the only one with the code. The key.

"Shane, you listen to him." Lori says, but I doubt Shane even hears her because the look is still there. I don't like that look...

Rick says something else. I don't hear it, though, because Shane covers it up with a really long yell that is just pure pent up anger.

And then, BOOM! Shane's gun goes off.

Not at Dr. Jenner, no, but at a nearby computer.

But I don't see what happens after that because hands lock onto my shoulders and push me behind a computer desk and to the hard ground. I stiffen automatically because I don't like physical contact, but then a gruff voice mutters into my ear and I relax a bit.

"Stay down."

Daryl.

It's Daryl.

And that's where I stay. Huddled against a computer desk with Daryl looming over my small form as the whole room practically falls apart around us. Shane screams and Rick yells and there is gunshots going off everywhere. I don't want to be scared, I tell myself not to be scared, but as the shotgun goes off again and the bullet hits the desk beside me, I find myself slipping into the terrified stage. Papers fly everywhere and the light above me flickers. There is a scuffle and I realize that it's not the gunshots that are scaring me; the yelling. It is the fact that Shane is doing this in a blind rage. He's not controlling it, I know that by the look he had in his eyes. And because he isn't controlling it-

He can't _stop_ it.

The yelling, screaming, shouting, gunshots -all of it- it comes to a halt then. The room goes still and I can hear panting from some of the group members. I lift my head off the floor, Daryl exhales.

And then Rick is speaking in a stern voice.

"Are you done now?" he asks, "Are you done?"

"Yeah, I guess we all are." the voice replies and it is Shane.

Daryl stands up, and using the desk to help me to my feet, I do too. Everyone is looking around at each other; wide-eyed and fearful. For some reason, I let my eyes drift and they go to Carl. He looks just like everyone else does as he clings to his mother's shirt. I bite my lip. Damn him for having so much left in this world. Rick hands the shotgun that Shane once had to T-dog. Shane slowly climbs to his feet and then Rick turns to Dr. Jenner, who is still in his chair.

"I think you're lying."

The doctor looks at him. "What?"

"You're lying about no hope. If that were true, you'd have bolted with the rest or taken the easy way out. You didn't. You chose the hard path. Why?"

"It doesn't matter-"

Rick crouches down so he is eye level with Dr. Jenner. He wipes his nose and then his mouth. "It does matter. It always matters. You stayed when others ran. Why?"

Dr. Jenner stands up and Rick goes right with him. He explains that he didn't have a choice; he made a promise. He points to the empty screen that once had the brain on it and says that he made the promise to his wife.

"Test subject 19 was your wife?" Lori asks and it clicks into place for me. Daryl moves from beside me, then. He picks up the axe that was once discarded on the floor and goes across the bridge platform and to the door. Raising the axe above his head, he starts to bang on it.

Dr. Jenner's wife was an Einstein. That's how Dr. Jenner explains it at least. He keeps going and I listen even with Daryl's axe pounding on the metal door in the background. He says that is should have been him on that table; bitten and dying. Apparently, his wife could have _done something_ about this. Dr. Jenner can't, though, because, according to him, he's just _Dr. Edwin Jenner_.

"Your wife didn't have a choice," Rick says, "You _do_. That's-that's all we want. A choice, a _chance._"

"Let us keep trying as long as we can." Lori chimes in, holding her son close.

Dr. Jenner stands still for a moment. He's thinking, I can tell, and then he shakes his head; opens and closes his mouth. My eyes follow the doctor as he walks over to a little gadget on one of the computer desks. "I told you topside's locked down. I can't open those." he says while typing in a code; sticking his card on it.

Is he really?

The metal door then opens and I blink to double check.

It's real. It's happening.

My eyes then move to the clock.

Four minutes. We have four minutes to get out of here.

Four minutes is enough.

It has to be.

* * *

When we reach the main entrance of the building -the lobby-, the doors are sealed shut just like Dr. Jenner had said. That's okay because there is glass and I know glass is pretty breakable from all the movies and corny cartoons I used to watch. Right?

Wrong.

The glass won't break.

Axes, a chair, a bullet from Shane's shotgun- none of it works. The glass keeps its hold, standing tall with barely even a mark in it. I pull on my hair; take a breath. It hurts at the roots when I do so, but, I don't care. We're so _close_. Close enough that I can make out the metal form of the cars parked outside.

But that's the thing; being _close._ That's what makes me tug on my hair just now and gives me the want to scream at the top of lungs. The closeness.

And the clock keeps ticking...

Suddenly, Carol is talking and rummaging through her bag. I don't hear what she says because my ears won't listen, but I am aware of me letting go of my hair. Shane comments something back to her and I think I hear "nail file" or something along those lines.

But then Carol holds out a bomb and my ears start listening again.

"Your first morning at camp," she says, "When I washed your uniform. I found this in your pocket."

The bomb, I recognize that bomb. The tank- yes, of course, the tank. Rick had grabbed it off that dead guy in the corner.

Rick takes the bomb from her and we all hide behind a wall as he activates it by the window. He sprints back and then, BOOM, an explosion goes off and the glass is shattered.

Just like that.

The clock is still ticking, though, so we have to quickly regain ourselves and jump out of the shattered window. The whole group -actually, no, the group minus three- is now in the parking lot or the front lawn or a graveyard or whatever you want to call it, it still doesn't matter because we are still a group minus three.

Dale, Amy, Jacqui-

No. I can't do that, not now. I have to keep going. I have to make it to T-dog's van.

_The clock is ticking, River, the clock is ticking._

And I do just that; keep going. I stay strong and work my way through all the bodies, the mess on the ground. There is walkers, but that doesn't stop me. Nothing does. My legs are on a mission and I run right past them like they mean nothing.

And finally, finally, I make it to the van.

T-dog is there before me and he yanks open the back door open. I practically jump in and slamming the door shut, he jogs around the van; gets in the drivers seat. The engine purrs to life and I wait for the RV -the caravan- to start moving.

But it never does.

T-dog stares at the RV. "What the-"

Moving forward in my seat, I clutch the back of the empty passenger that Andrea would be sitting in. I look at the RV with T-dog; press my chapped lips together. I do because it _should_ be moving by now, shouldn't it? Yes, it should, and I hope there is nothing wrong with it.

Because Dale isn't here anymore.

The RV still stays still and I'm pretty sure that if my eyes were lasers, they would have burned a big hole in it by now.

And then I see it, out of the corner of my eye. I see the reason why we are still parked outside a building that is seconds from blowing up.

Dale and Andrea.

They climb out of the broken window and then here they come; running through all the limp bodies on the ground. T-dog is watching them, too, and I look for Jacqui, but I don't see her. _I don't._

It happens fast. Too fast. Rick starts beeping the RV horn. Dale and Andrea dive behind a wall that wall that appears to be constructed out of pillows and before I know it, T-dog is yelling at me to get down and I'm on the van's carpet mat; covering my head.

The explosion is big, loud. A huge ROAR pierces the air and it ends with a WHOOSH of air that shakes the whole church van. When it's all done and over, I sit frozen on the floor. I don't know why, but my body won't let me move.

_Not yet. _It tells me. _Not yet._

T-dog is already sitting up and he looks back at me. "You okay?"

I nod. "Yeah. I-I'm fine."

My body starts to slowly unlock. A door slams.

"They got Andrea and Dale," T-dog says.

I get up and sink back into my seat. The CDC is in flames, looking like a big fireball. I wonder if it is ever going to go out. Considering that there is no firemen anymore and it feels like it is one hundred degrees everyday, perhaps, it will just burn forever.

But that's not important. Not now.

Because somewhere in that fireball that may not ever go out, is Jacqui and Dr. Jenner. People I was just with minutes ago.

_Boom._

_Gone._

The caravan starts to move, then, and I tear my eyes away from the remains of the CDC; look at T-dog.

"Can I, um, move up there?"

He gives me a quick glance and the van has started to move now. When he talks, his tone suggests to hurry up. "Yeah, sure."

And I do "hurry up". I step over the middle console and hop into the passenger seat right before we hit the U-Turn the others are using to get out of here.

And that's when I remember.

I remember that there is another thing left in that fire as well. Something else besides Dr. Jenner and Jacqui.

My backpack, all my stuff. Everything that resembled _me-_ it is in that fire. Burnt to nothing.

It's nothing just like the woman who took care of me in the RV and the doctor who saw my scars.

The CDC keeps shrinking smaller and smaller as I look at it through the side mirror.

We keep driving. I start thinking.

The old me...who even is the old me?

The old me was the quiet little girl. The old me would force myself to grow up. The old me had parents that were still alive. The old me is burning away right now.

And the new me, the me _me_, knows it's better this way.

So I accept it.

Accept it like I always do.

* * *

**I don't like the ending to this chapter, but hopefully all of you will.**

**Thanks for all the support :)**


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